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ny* Older " nKWITT^" A4tiim Plnv$»* 

PRTCKXr> CF.NTS. 



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9^^-- 



\\3^^ r)E WITTS ACTING FLAYS, ^^^v 



(INnin1>f^i' ::.s«.) 




WON BACK. 



A PLAY, 



ITJ I^OOTt. -A.OTS». 



By CLIFTON W. TAYLEURE. 



TOGF.THRU WITH 



A I>esc'ii|iti(iii of tlie ('ostimies— (!ast of tlie (;ii;ii;icters— Entrances 

and Exils — Helative Posilions of llie Perfonneis on the 

Stage — and I lie wliole of (lie .Sla,i,'e lJiis»ines8. 



Item 'H|orh : ^ 

THE DE WITT PUBLISHING HOUSE, M 



Z^M 



)B0^^ 



AC0MPLP:TE descriptive catalogue of DE WITTS ACTING 
PLAYS and DE WITTS ETHIOPIAN AND COM IC DR AMAS, containing 
Plot. Costume, Scenery, Time of Representation, and all other information, mailed 

f-'^- T'-^ •^'^^•i-r'^'d on application. 



33£: TT^ITT'iS 



Ethiopian a-nd Comic Drama. 



«- 



Nothiu" so tlioiungli and complete in tlie way of Ethiopian and Comic Dramas has 
ever beeu^printea as tliose that appear in the followin',' Ifst. Not only are the plots ex- 
cellent, the characters droll, the incidents Juuny, the lauyuag 
situations, by-play, positions, paiitorniniic business. sceiier.\ 



hniuorous, but all the 
and tricks are so plainly 



Dut down aiid clearlv explained that the merest novice could put any of them on the 
stage. Included in this Catalogue are all the most laughable and effective pieces of then- 
kind ever produced. . ^ ^ ■ t^-^^ ,-> 

*5=- .^uy of the following Plays sent, postage free, on receipt of pi-ice— Fifteen Cents 

«:B- In ordering, please give correctly the title of each piet^e wanted. * 

* These Plays require but one scene, unless otherwise stated. The figures iu the 
coluutns indicate "the number of characters— M. male; F. Female. 



M. F. 
3 1 
5 



HI. Absent Minded, Eth. farce 

7:t. .\trican Box. Eth. burlesque, 2 sc. 
107. African us Bluebeard, Eth. musical 

burlesque 6 

113. Ambition, Irish farce, 2 scenes — 7 

133! Awful Plot (An), Eth. farce 3 

43. Baby Elephant, Eth. sketch, 2 sc. 7 

42. Bad Whiskey, Irish sketch 3 

79! Barney's Courtship, Irish musical 

interlude 1 

40. Big Mistake, Ethiopian sketch. .. 4 

15.5" Black Brigands, musical burlesque 8 

6. Black Chap from Whitechapel, 

Ethiopian farce 4 

10 Black Chemist. Ethiopian sketch.. 3 
11! Black-Ev'd\Villiaiii,Eth.sketch,2sc. 4 
14(;. Black Forrest (Tlie), Eth. farce... 2 
110 Bhick Magician, Eth. comicality .. 4 
126! Black Statue (The). Eth. farce. ... 4 

127. Blinks and Jinks, Eth. sketch 3 

128. Boboltuo, the Black Bandit, Eth. 

musical farce '- 

120. Body Suatehers (The), Eth. sketch 

2 scenes 4 

78. Bogus Indian, sketch, 4 scenes 5 

S9 Bogus Talking Machine, Eth. farce 4 
■U. Bruised and Cured, Eth. Sketch.. 2 
los! Charge Qf the Hash Brigade, comic 

Irish musical sketch 2 

14S Christmas Eve in the South, Eth. 

farce ^ 

3.5. Coal Heaver's Revenge, Eth sketch 
112! (Jomiug Man. Eth. sketch. 2 scenes 3 
41 Cremation, Eth. sketch. 2 scenes. . 8 

144! Crowded Hotel (The), sketch 4 

14o! Cupid's Frolics, sketch 5 

12 Daguerreotypes, Eth. sketch 3 

53! Damon and Pythias, Eth. burlesque 

2 scenes ■ ^ 

63 Darkey's Stratagem. Eth. sketch.. 3 
13U Darke.v Sleep Walker, Eth. sketch. 3 

I'u! Deaf as a Post. Eth. sketch 2 

111! Deeds of Darkness, Eth. extrava 

ganza 

13!» De.-!perate Situation, farce 

1.5!)! Dodging the Police, farce 

157 Don't Get Weary, musical sketch. 
50 Draft (The), Eth. sketch, 2 scenes 
64. Dutchman's Ghost (The), sketch.. 

9.5 Dutch .Tustice. Dutch sketch 

67' Editor's Troubles, farce 6 

4 Eh' What is it? Eth. sketch 4 

136 Election Day. Eth. farce, 2 scenes. 6 

9S Elop''"^<'"* l^''®'' ^*'''"®' ^ '"■"^"®^" * 

50" Excise Trials. Etli. sketch ... 10 

2.5! Fellow that Looks dike aie, inter' 
Imle 



2 1 



So. M. I 

88. First Night. Dutch farce 4 

51. Fisheinian's Luck, Eth. sketch. .. 2 
152. Fun in a Cooper's Shop, Eth. sketch G 
106. Gambrinus, King of Lager Beer. 

Eth. burlesque, 2 scenes S 

157. Gentlemen Coon's Parade, Eth. 

musical sketch a 

83. German Emigrant. Dutch sketch.. 2 
77. Getting Square on the Call Boy. 
Eth. sketch .'i 

17. Ghost (The), Eth. sketch -j 

58. Ghost in a Pawn Shop, Eth. sketch 4 
31. Glycerine Oil. Eth. sketch. 2 sc... 
•20. Going for the Cup, Eth. interlude. 4 
82. Good Night's Kest. sketch : 

130. Go and Get Tight. Eth. farce 1 

86. Gripsack iThei. sketch 

70. Guide to the Stage, Eth, sketch. . . ;. 
61. Happy Couple, larce 2 

142. Hai'pv Uncle Rufus, Eth. musical 

sketch 1 

23. Hard Times, Eth. extravaganza... 5 

118. Helen's Funny Babies, Eth, bur- 

lesque 6 

3. Hemmed In. Eth. sketch 3 

48. High Jack, the Heeler, Eth, sketch 6 
68. Hiiipotheation, sketch 9 

1.50. How to Pay the Rent, farce 6 

71. In and Out, sketch 2 

123. Intelliuence Oflace, Eth. sketch.... 2 

33. Jealous Husband. Eth. sketch 2 

94. Julius the Suoozer, Eth. burlesque 

3 scenes 6 

103. Katriiia's Little Game, Dutch act.. 1 
1. Last of the Mohicans, Eth. sketch. 3 

36. Laughing Gas, Eth sketch 6 

161. Limekiln Club iu an Uproar (The), 

l-;th . farce S 

18. Live Injun, Eth. sketch. 4 scenes. 4 
60. Lost Will (The), Eth. sketch 4 

37. Lucky Job, larce, 2 scenes 3 

00. Lunatic (The), Eth. farce 3 

109. Making a Hit, Eth. farce, 2 scenes, i 

19. Malicious Trespass, Eth. sketch... 3 
149. 'Meriky . Eth. larce 3 

1.51. Micky Free, Irish sketch 5 

96. JIulnight Intruder, farce 6 

147. Milliners Shop. Eth sketch 2 

129 Moko Marionettes, Eth. eccentri- 
city, 2 scenes . . 4 

101. MoUv Moriartv, Irish musical 

sketch 1 

117. Motor Bellows, farce 4 

158. Mr. Mikado, musical burlesque. . . 6 

44. Musical Servant, Eth. sketch 3 

8. Mutton Trial. Eth. sketch, 2 sc... 4 

119. Mv Wife's Visitors, farce 6 



WON BACK. 



A PLAY, 



IN FOUR ACTS 



By CLIFTON W. TAYLEURE. 



TOGETHER WITH 



A DESCRIPTION OP THE COSTUMES— CAST OF THE CHARACTERS — EN- 
TRANCES AND EXITS — RELATIVE POSITIONS OP THE PERFORM- 
EKS ON THE STAGE, AND THE WHOI^ OP THE STAGE 
BUSINESS. 



S6 1893 „' 

NEW YORK : J* S ^l^f O "* J/ 

THE DE WITT PUBLISHmG HOUSE, 

No. 33 Rose' Street. 
Copyright, 1892, by R. H. Rushell & Sou. 



WON BACK. 



CHARACTERS. 



PSZ<=I78 



Hugh Eansome, of New York— Juvenile. 
Harold King, of Alabama— Leading. 
Austin BROOKEa, of Virginia — Eccentric. 
Fkank Powers, of Connecticut—First walking gentleman. 
Homer C. Cooke, of South Carolina — Comedy. 
Abner p. Decker, of Masisachusetts — Comedy. 
Miss Constance Bukwell, of Maryland— Star. 
Miss Lulu Osborne, of Philadelphia— Leading. 
Mrs. Adelgitha Barbour, of Virginia — Comedy. 
Miss Kate Barbour, her daughter. 
Soldiers and Citizens. 



TIME IN PLAYING— TWO AND A HALF HOURS. 



SCENERY. 

ACT I.— Handsomely furnished drawing-room of hotel in Washington, D. C, 1860. 
Doors c, R. 1 e. and l. 1 e.; tete-a-tete c; table, with pitcher, glasses, and bowl, 
■L. c. ; chair and hassock near table, l. o. 

ACT II, — Same as Act I. 

ACT III. — Handsomely furnished drawing-room of hotel in New York City, 1861. 
Doors R. 1 E., L. 1 E. and c; windows in flat each side of c. d., running to floor. 

ACT IV. — View of camp of " Confederate " soldiers near Winchester, Va., on flat 
at back; small set cottage, rather dilapidated, used as officers' headquarters, r. 3 e.; 
small tabid or stand, with book on, in front of cottage, r. c; light snow falling; 
camp fire c. 



COSTUMES. 

Hugh Ransome. — Act I, Evening party tjr ball dress. Act II. Genteel morning 
dress. Act III, Uniform of Colonel of U. S. Volunteers. Act IV, Same uni- 
form, but somewhat worn and faded. 

Harold King.— Act I, Evening or ball dress. Act II, Genteel morning dres^;. Act 
III, Genteel travelling dress. Act IV, Uniform of Brigadier-General of Con- 
federate army. 

Austin Brookes. — Act I, Evening party or ball dress. Act II, Genteel morning 
dress. Act III, Stylish travelling suit, hat and gloves. Act IV, Uniform of 
Major in Confederate army. 

Homer Cooke.— Act I, Evening party dress. Act II, Neat walking costume, with 
hat and gloves. Act III, Same as Act II, in first part; in second part, clothes 
muddy and disarranged, coat torn up back. Act IV, Worn and ragged uni- 
form of Confederate soldier, sloucli hat. 

Abner Decker.— Act I, Evening party dress. Act II, Ordinary business suit, wMli 
hat. Act III. Same as Act II. Act IV. Rngged uniform of Confederate soldur. 
slouch hat, barefooted or with old, dilapidated shoes, beard long and neg- 
lected. 



/-? - ^93/1, 



WON BACK. 3 

Frank Powers. — Act I, Genteel eveuiu;,' ciress. Act II, Stylit^b moviiiiig dress. 
Act III, Genteel business suit, with hat and gloves, in first part; uniform of 
Captain of United States Volnuteers in second i)art. 

Constance Burwell — Act I, Ball dress, rich but not gaudy. Act II, Stylish morn- 
ing costume. Act III, Genteel iilteruoon dress. Act IV, Dress of hospital 
nurse, witli badge of U S. Sanitary Commission. 

Lulu Osborne.— Act II, Stylish travelling costume, with hat and wrap, in first part; 
genteel afteruoou dress in second part. Act III, Genteel afternoon dress. 

i"\lKs. Barbour. — Act I, Evening pait.y dress, such as would be suitable for a woman 
of forty or over, fan, etc. Act II, Dark morning dress. Act III, Afternoon 
dress, witli evidences of a hasty toilet. Act IV, Clothes several years behind 
the fashion, but clean and whole; hat and wraps to correspond. 

K.ATE Barbour. — Act I, Evening party dress, with fan, etc. Act II, Stylish morning 
costume. Act III, Afternoon dress. Act IV, Dress old-fashioned, but neat 
and of good material; hat and wraps to correspond. 



PROPERTIES. 



Act I.— Fan for Mrs. Barbour; bottle of smelling salts for Abner; package of 
letters tied with ribbon for Hugh; portrait for do. 

Act II. — Note for Homer; same for Abner; gloves for Hugh. 

Act III. — " Extra " newspaiier for Austin; same for Homer and Abneri pocket- 
books with bills for Homer and Abner; roll of bank-notes for Austin; musket with 
sabre-bayouet, also bowie-knife, pistol, and havelock, for Abner. 

Act IV. — Barrel with both heads out. and holes in sides to admit arms of a man, 
for Homer; sword and revolver for Austin; musket with fixed bayonet for Abnek; 
pencil or fountain pen for Harold, also folded paper. 



STAGE DIRECTIONS. 

R. means Right of Stage, facing the Audience; L. Left; C. Centre; R. C. Right of 
Centre; li. C. Left of Centre; D. F. Door in the Flat, or Scene running across the 
back of the Stage; C. D. F. Centre Door in the Flat; R. D. F. Right Door in the 
Flat; L. D. F. Left Door in the Flat; R. D. Right Door; L. D. Left Door; 1 E. First 
Entrance; 2 E. Second Entrance; U. E. Upper Entrance; 1, 2 or 3 G. First, Second 
or Third Groove. 

R. R. C. C. L. C. L. 

;Q®=" The reader is supposed to be upon the stage, facing the audieuce. 



WON BACK. 



SYNOPSIS. 

The characters in this play are types of the society in Washiugton, D. C, thirty 
years ago, with their charact'^ristics iuteusified by the stirriug scenes of the period. 
A fashionable " hop" iu a Washington hotel introduces most of them to the audi- 
dience, and shows that some of them at least, are seeking by the usual siibterhiges 
to better their fortunes, and others, younger, and more impressionable, are swayed 
by the tender passion to the point of fierce rivalry. The comedy element of the 
play is confined jnostly to Abneu Deckeb and Homer Cooke, a tyiJical New Englancler 
and a South Carolinian, and to Mks. Barbouk, a Virginia widow, no longer young, 
but still fond of gaiety and flattered by attention. Her daughter Kate, a lively girl, 
with two would-be lovers, is a pleasing character, who finds it rather hard to be 
serious under any circumstances. Hogh Ransome, a New York banker, shows him- 
self every inch a man; and Harold King, a blue-blooded Alabamian, led by his 
jealousy Jind disappointment to the verge of crime, at last developes the nobleness 
that is in him. Lulu Osborne (who marries Ransome) is a loveable young woman; 
and Constance Burwell, the heroine of the play, loved by both Ransome and 
King, is a noble character, and after many vicissitudes is "Won Back " by her first 
love. 



SYNOPSIS OF EVENTS. 
Act I. — Drawing-room, Arlington, Washington — 1860. 

"Whom first we love, you know, we seldom wed; 
Time rules us all; and life indeed is not 
The thing we planned it out, ere hope was dead. 
And then, we women cannot choose our lot.'' 

In fetters — The rivals— North and South— The coy widow — A noted duelist — An 
old affection — The dismissal— The rivals meet — "You shall answer for this'' — 
Farewell. 

Act II.— Same Scenk— 1860. 

"Who might have been — Ah, what, 1 dare not think I 
We all are changed. God judges for the best. 
God help us do our duty, and not shrink, 
And trust in Heaven humbly for the rest." 

Broken ties — A Vassar girl's idea of matrimony — A Washiugton savage — Schooling 
a lover — Affairs of honor— The Northern fire-eater — The missing challenge — Be- 
trothed. 

Act III. — Drawing-room in a New York Hotel — 1861. 

" With bayonets slanted in the glittering light, 
With solemn roll of drums, 
With starlit banners rustling wings of night, 
The knightly concourse comes." 

To arms! To arms!— Stand by the f|ag— A woman's duty— A skirmish in the 
parlor — On to Richmond— Reunited — The passing regiment. 

Act IV. — CoNPEDERATK Camp at Wincfiester — 1864. 

"No more shall the war cry sever, or the winding river be red; 
They banish our anger forever, when they laurel the graves of our dead.'' 

A coward's armor — A hand to hand struggle— Hugh captured—Sentenced to be 
shot— A ministering angel — Harold King's revenge — The attack on the camp — Death 
of King— .\fter the battle— ^^ou Back. 



WON BACK. 



ACT I. 

SCENE. — Drawing-room of a hotel in Wufildngton, furnished as usu- 
al. A Hop is in progress. 

Music. Enter Mrs. Barbour ns if overcome by heat, followed by Ho- 
mer Cooke with fait, and Abner loith salts, c. 

Mrs. Barbour (sitting langxidly on tete-a-tete, c). The room was 
insufferably warm ! I feel as if I should faint ! (both gentlemen bustling- 
ly offer assistance.) 

Homer (energetically f aiming her, r.) This will revive you, my dear 
Mrs. Barbour. 

A'&i^v.R (scolding at lloyiPAi). Of what use is a fan in a critical case 
like this? (fenderli/) Dear Mrs. Harbour, have a wliiff of these aromatic 
smelling salts; they are not very strong, {takes a whiff' himself . and is 
nearly suffocated) Not very strong. 

Mrs. B. (smiling on both). You are very kind, gentlemen — both. I 
don't know what I should have done without you. (cnqneltishly.) 

Homer {aside). All sarcasm, yet he won't take it, the stupid Yankee! 

Abner (aside). Hangs to her like a shadow, yet he calls himself a 
Southern gentleman. Tiie bully ! 

Homer (ti> Abxer, ./j«?rrfy). Sir! Did you speak to me, sir! 

ABNJiit (fii'rceli/). No sir ! Did you hear me speak, sir ? 

Homer. No, sir; but you looked as though you wanted to speak to 
me, sir. 

Abner. Not to yon, sir! I have better use for my time, sir. 

Homer. Peddling nutmegs or shoe-pegs, I suppose, sir. 

Abner (Jiercely). Sir ! 

Homer (aggressively). Sir ! 

Mrs. B. { pt'etending fatntness). Oh dear, how dizzy I feel ! (both as- 
siduously renew attentions.) 

Homer {runs and gets it from table). Take a drink of this ice-water. 
{offering it.) 

Abner (getting slop-bowl from table). TliaCs not ice-water; this is. 
Take a sip, dear Mrs. Barbour. 

Mrs. B. {looki)ig fondly from one to the other). Thank you. It will 
pass off in a minute, (the two lovers go ujy to table to return glasses ami 
■nearly coUid.e.) 

Homer (aside). Why the devil don't he go ! The adhesive plaster ! 

Abner (aside). He won't see he's not wanted. The artesian bore ! 



G WON BACK. 

Mrs. B. I am afraid I danced too much. But these hotel hops are 
verj' enticing. 

Homer and Abxek {together). Oh, very. 

Mrs. B. Then I was .stirred into emulation by the example of Con- 
stance Burvvell and Harold King. How gracefully they danced. 

Homer. Awfully graceful. 

Abner. They are engaged, I believe ? 

Mrs. B. So report says. 

Homer. She certainly couldn't find a better husband hereabouts, if as 
good. Harold King comes from one of the blue-blooded families of 
Alabama. 

Mk.s. B. And Constance from one of the oldest families of Maryland. 

thmEH {(/ontHfiiJli/). Ye-es. But she has spent the best part of her 
life in the North, and, of course, has been atlected by her associations. 

Abner {bristling). Do you mean to insinuate, sir, that life in the free 
North isn't wholesome to the blue blood of the South ? 

Homer {l)ri.stling). I mean, sir, that birds of a feather should herd 
together. 

A-R'tiv.R {stieering). Flock together, sir! Birds flock, sheep herd. 
And pray, sir, why don't you stick to your flocks in the South ? 

HoMEii. For the same reason, I presume, that you left your herds in 
the North to come to Washington — I chose to do otherwise. 

Abner. Very much o///er-wise. (rt.svV/f?) Infernally stupid, /should say. 
{(ilnud) We can spare him if he wants to go back, eh, Mrs. Barbour ? 
Ha, ha, ha ! 

Mrs. B. You forget that I too am Southern. 

Abnkk. Oh, but you're the widow of a Northern man, and reside 
among Northern people. 

Homer {sneering). Both of which, I suppose you think possess a 
civilizing tendency ? 

Abner {cnfi7-seli/). Not always. They don't appear to have aflected 
you any. Ha, ha, ha ! 

Homer {(onioi/ed). No, sir, I am vaccinated — inoculated, I mean. 

Mrs. B. Unfortunately Mr. Cooke has not liad the full benefit of these 
influences. He is a resident of Washington, 'tis true, but not yet, like 
myself, a widow. Ha, ha, ha ! 

Abner. Ah, well. That isn't his 07il>/ misfortune, however. 

Homer. You are right, knowing you ought to count for something. 

Mrs. B. Two years ago Constance was engaged to Hugh Ransome, 
the New York banker, but he suddenly broke off the match, and began 
to pay attentions to Lulu Osborne, daughter of a rich mine owner of 
Penn.sylvania. 

Homer {dryly). Lucky Mi.ss Burwell. 

Mrs. B. What! For "being jilted— cast off by Hugh Ransome? 

Homer. No ; but for escaping from a Yankee lover, totally unworthy 
of her. 

Abner {ironiccilly). You (ire right. Of course inconstant lovers are 
confined wholly to the North. Whoever heard of a Southern man 
jilting his sweetheart ? 

Homer {threateningly). If you slander my section, I'll 

Abner {turning tip his cuffs). Try it, andyou'U spend the next month 
in a hospital. 

51 RS. B. {starting vp apprehensively). Oh, gentlemen, please don't 
fight ! This excitement is too much— I shall faint ! Catch me ! {each 
starts to catch her; she falls, clafiping the neck of each.) 

Abner {furiously fanning her). Look up, Adelgitha— / am here ! 



WON BACK. 7 

lIoMF.R (thrusting salts under her nose). Dear Mrs. Barbour, I won't 
)ii;iit, if you say so. 

Mus. B. {rerivlng). Where ;im I? 

Abner. At the Arlington House, beloved ! {tries to kiss her, repulsed 
by HoMEK.) 

Homer {glaring at Abner). Here ! here ! adored Mrs. Barbour ! {at- 
tempts to kiss her.) 

Abner {preventing). Coward! to take advantage of a dying woman. 

Homer {releasing Mrs. B.j. Coward ! come on ! 

Abner {releasing Mrs. B., who staggers). I'm your man ! Come on ! 

Enter, c, Kate, quickhi followed by Austin. Abner and Homer sud- 
deidy conceal their belligerence under affected smiles; Abner 
hums a song, and unobserved shakes fist at Homer, who responds. 

Kate {cvcitedly). Oh, mamma! who do you tliink is in town, here in 
this hotel ? Hugh Ransome ! 

Mrs. B., Homer, and Abner {together). Hugli Ransome ! 

Homer. Well, he must have tlie cheek of a bronze statue to come 
here ! 

Austin. If he is wise he will keep out of the way of King. Harold is 
a noted duelist, a dead shot, and 

Abner {interrupting). And wouldn't hesitate to murder his rival, I 
suppose. 

Austin. Murder him ! No, indeed. Harold King isn't that kind of a 
man, sir. He'd provoke him into a duel, and kill him; but 1 hope, 
Decker, you don't call that murder. 

Abnek. Well, it is considerably more decorous and — and — ceremoni- 
ous, but I'm afraid it amounts to the same thing. 

Homer. Mr. Decker is from the North, Austin, and is, of course, op- 
posed to dueling. 

Abner. No, sir, I am not. No, sir. If you, or anybody resembling 
you, think Abner Decker won't respond, quick, just let them invite me 
out. 'riiat's all. 

Austin. What, invite you out to "smile"? (Homer laughs good hu- 
mo redly.) 

Abner {glaring at Homer). Smile indeed ! No, sir; to fight ! Durn 
my hat! I don't know what fear is; I was born without it! Oh, that's 
me! (tcaltz music heard.) 

Kate. There's the waltz ! Come, Mr. Brookes; I wouldn't miss it for 
the world, {taking Austin's arm) And it's your favorite, nuimma. 
Hugh Ransome has no partner; come dance with him. Hurry ! 

[ Waltzes out with Austin, c. 

Mrs. B. Do you waltz, Mr. Cooke ? 

Homer. Well, I can go around a little. 

Abner {bursts into a loud laugh). So can a squirrel in a cage. But 
"going around" isn't waltzing. Ha, ha, ha ! 

Mrs. B. You waltz of course, Mr. Decker ? 

Abner {suddenly checking his laughter). Ahem ! Yes— yes I could, 
only I'm subject to vertigo. 

Homer. Ha, ha, ha ! "Oh no ! Tliat is no go. {Abi^er turns fiercely 
on him.) 

Mrs. B. No matter; I shall easily find a partner. You'll escort me 
to the parlor, won't you? {looking coquettishly from one to the other. 
Both dart for lizard and offer an arm.) 

Homer and .Abner {together, gallantly). Certainly! Allow me. 



8 WON BACK. 

Mrs. B. {taking an arm of each. Tenderly). You really must learn to 
waltz, {looking from one lo the other <ind going up stage) It is so fasci- 
nating. {stoj)s) Oh, I have forgotten my fan ! Bring it for me, please. 
{Mnsic, forte. Both gentlemen run eagerly forward to get fan. Mrs. 
B. rnns out c, laughing.) 

Yio'^XKR {hari)ig ]iolil of fan, down c, fiercely). I w;iS specially re- 
quested to bring this fun, sir. 

Abner {(dso Imving hold, (f fan, fiercely). So was I specially request- 
ed to bring it; and I mean to do it ! 
. Homer {resolutely). So do I, sir, or I'll perish in the attempt ! 

Abner {menacingly). You mean to light then ? 

Homer. To the death, sir ! 

Abner {solemnly). Your blood be on your own head ! Come on ! 
{squares off.) 

Homer. One moment till I peel, {relinquishes grasp of the fan and 
turns to take off coat. Abner runs out c. with fan) "Nov/ come, on. 
Coward ! where are you? Tricked. Here, stop! {is running off' c, 
stumbles over hassock, upsets chair, and colliding with Powers, who 
■precedes Ransome, runs out c.) 

Enter, c, Frank Powers and Hugh Ransome. 

Frank. I think that gentleman is in a hurry. But what brought you 
here, Ransome ? 

Hugh. Her demand for her letters. 

Frank. Yes, but to journey from New York to Washington merely to 
hand over a package'of old love letters seems to- me to be, in the high- 
est degree, incomprehensible — that is to say, silly. 

Hugh. You are right. But I am impelled by a power I cannot resist 
to see her once again. 

Frank. The v;inity of a lover, my friend. You would excite once 
more into flame, before it is utterly extinguished, the last spark of tliat 
flame, in the brilliant light of which Hope whispers to Youth its lirst 
romance of Love. 

Hugh. Periiaps so. 

Frank. Better throw yourself into the Potomac than trifle thus with 
danger. Do you really love Constance Burwell ? 

Hugh. Three years ago, when through an absurd jealousy of Harold 
King, I broke off my engagement with her, I thought I did not; but 
now 

Frank. But now that she prefers another, you think you do love her. 
Well, does she retain any of the old-time love for you ? 

Hugh. I hope so; yet am afraid not; else she could never have sur- 
rendered me so calmly — could never have encouraged the wooing of 
Harold King. 

Frank. Nonsense ! Women are creatures of change, and like our- 
selves need new emotions to keep them alive. One thing seems clear 
enough; she is very fond of Harold King. 

Hugh (unth. heat). A man utterly unworthy of her; and, to crown all, 
a duelist, who mocks at the sanctities of life. 

Frank (laugh i7ig). A man, therefore, to be respectfully avoided, 

Hugh. Not by me! Not every duelist is a man of courage. I shall 
not on that account shrink from encountering him. Upon my life fail 
all the consequences of my folly —my madness. 

Frank. But what if some of these consequences should fall upon her 
life also, and so subject your heart to remorse or r-egret ? 



WON BACK. 9 

Hugh. Remorse never ! Regret is alrendy throned upon my life. 
Regret that I should hav:e overlooked the nobility of this true woman — 
should have lieard the music of love, and yet have missed the tune. 

Frank. Take my advice: don't lookback; remember the fate of 
Mrs. Lot. 

Hlgii. Who can resist Destiny ? We are the sport of invisible pow- 
ers. What viiijht have been, I cannot now i)ause to reflect upon. 
What must be, is now the question of my life. Some one comes ! 'Tis 
she; and with Jiim I I must not meet them now; my busmess is with 
her, alone. This way. \ExH Hugh (vid Frank, r. 1 k. 

Enter, c, Constance and Harold. 

CoNSTANOE. You are wrong, Harol I. If I seem to hesitate over your 
question, "tis less through doubt of your wortinness tiian of my power 
to escape from one haunting regret; my ability to emancipate my owii 
life, and fultill once more a woman's mission and a wonum's hopes. 

Harold. I understand you. Yet why should the treachery of Hugh 
Ransome cloud all your life, and darken your name ? 

CoNsr. Because it unsettled my faith in man ! Because, though my 
heart was not broken, yet all its iibres were tested end strained by this 
cruel trial of endurance. That rude lesson taught me the need of care- 
fully sheltering my life from my own heart; taught me also to distrust 
the heart of another, {tuivis aio/i// to coi'icf^iil her emotion.) 

Harold. Not to mistrust mine, I hope? {sJie suddenly turns a>id 
places her hnml m h/s.) 

Const. Oh no— no ! 

Harold. You fence with a feeling which in spite of all mistrust you 
know to be i)ure and intense. Why not conquer doubt with hope? 
Must the shadow of the past forever obscure the dawn of the future ? 

Const. Ah, my friend, we are not what we would be, but what we 
m)ist be; our real e.xistence has its springs less in what we (to than 
what we feel. 

Harold. Then 'tis for i//>i/r life, as well as for my own, that I plead. 
Once more I otier you a name, fortune, and power to fulfill your mis- 
sion. Once more I implore you to save and sanction the life I have 
dedicated to you I Stoop and raise me to your own i)ure height ! Be 
my wife ! 

Const. Your ofler is too precious to me, in worth and in honor, to be 
Tmhtly met, or lightly dealt with. I ask but time to rettect. 

Harold. Thmk of the years I have waited. Besides, have you for- 
gotten that one month ago you i)romised me your decision to-night ! 

CoNsr. I remembered, but hoi)ed you would not press for that de- 
cision. 

Harold. And why not, since my destiny liangs upon your answer? 

Const. Because — because — Oh ! I cannot answer you to-night. 

Harold. One question more. Pardon, but 'tis my right to ask it 
boldly; it is your duty to answer truly. Shall I go on ? 

Const, {njiprehcnsirelii). Ye-es! Better face the truth at once. 

Harold. Tins Hugh Ransome, who broke his troth to you, and as 
lightly plighted it to another, are you quite certain that all love for him 
has been extinguished? — that were he once again to re-enter your life, 
you would not again take his worthless heart into the precious "caress of 
your own. 

Const, {after pause). Quite certain. But T will not conceal from you 
that I have not forgotten the past; and if I iiause before your ardent 



10 ' WON BACK. 

entreaties, it is because I am brave enough and honest enough not to 
give you at once, in excliange for i/oitr gifts qf name, fortune, love, a 
heart which at best is but a ruin I 

Hakolu {seiziiiy her hand). A ruin which, trust nie, dearest, I will 
yet rebuild ! 

Co.v^T. And now may I beg you to leave me to myself? 

Harold. Une more word. May I hope ? 

Const. {(iftHi- paH.se). Yes. Hope that peace may once more come to 
my heart, and content to yours. 

Harold {/,-iss/n/j her hainl). Thrice blessed word! Doubt not, my 
Constance, that faith shall yet justify this hope, and love crown both. 

[Ex/f, o. 

Const, {pomlering). It would be more than madness— it would be, 
criminal — longer to cherish this hope, which even treachery could not 
e.xtinguish. The being 1 once loved exists no more. The image which 
fancy seems ever to shape from the solitude left around the ruins of the 
past, is a phantom ! What I hear in the silence, and see in the lone 
void of life, is not a reality; 'tis but an ideal hero, born of my perished 
youth ! He who survives is but the hard, cold apt pupil of the world ! 
Tears ! Pshaw ! {forcuiij hack her emo/io/i) Weil, they but widen yet 
more the gulf which separates the i)resent from the past, (risitig) My 
decision is made. I will wed Harold King ! The ghosts of the past 
shall not forever scourge back the hopes of the future. (iNth oiithicrst of 
emotion) Yet, oh my God ! how shall I tear from my heart the memor- 
ies I have secretly cherislied there ! 

Enter, qnickhj, R. 1 e., Mrs. Barbour. Constance subdues her emo- 
tion, and affects a gaiety she does not feel. 

Ah, Mrs. Barbour, you come responsive to my wish. Does this flower 
become me? 'Tis not my color, you know;" but Harold gave it me, 
and for his sake I must wear it. He is to be 

Mr?. B. {interrn)itiiig). Have vou seen him, my dear? 

Const. {Ugh tin). Seen hun ? Who? 

Mrs. B. Hugh Ransoine. He is here ! 

Const. Great Heaven ! Hugli Ransome here ! 

Mrs. B. Yes, here in this house. He saw you enter this room with 
Harold King, and then rushed to see me, and unburthen himself of 
his griefs. If you could only have heard his bitter self-reproaches you 
wonlcl have said the man had committed some horrible crime. 

Const. Was there nothing criminal then in his encouragement of a 
woman's sacred aflections, only to trample upon them afterwards? 

Mrs. B. Criminal indeed ! Of course not. That's an every-day af- 
fair. Men thinlv no more now-a-days of changing sweethearts than of 
changing their boots. 

Const. I cannot view Hugh Ransome's treachery in any such indulg- 
ent light; {going) and I have no wish ever to see him again. 

Mrs. B. But you must see him. dear, or there will he trouble between 
him and Mr. Kinir; perhups a duel. If so, I wouldn't give ten cents for 
Hui!,']i Ransome's life. 

Const, (a/arined). His life ! Oh heavens ! They must not meet ! 

Mrs. B. But they have met. my dear. 

Co\sr. (ni)prehen><ivel!/). Oh unhappy woman that I am ! I never 
tliought of that. 

Mrs. B. But I did. You are green in that sort of business, and have 
no idea therefore how mean and stupid a jealous man can be. /know 



WON BACK. 11 

all about it. I liave been there. So I at once utilized mj' two insepara- 
bles —Mr. Decker and Mr. Cooke— and instructed taein to keep the two 
rivals apart at anj" cost. 

Const, {nnxiuiisli/}. But will thej' be able to do so ? 

Mks. B. Will they? Oh, won't they? Two more i)ersistent simple- 
tons were never seen. Otherwise I never could liave kept them by my 
si<le as I have done. I set Decker on to Harold Kinj? and Homer on to 
Hugh Rausome. Tlie law of opposites, you see, my dear. 

Enter, c, e.cciledlij, Homek and Abxer. 

Const. {(in.rioHsly). Well — well ! 

Mrs. B. Good i^racious ! You haven't left those two fierce men alone 
together ? They'll kill each other ! 

Hc)Mi:k. I iiave had enough of being a peacemaker for one day. 

Abnku. So have I, for all my life, and longer. 

Go.vsT. «;r^ Miis. B. {toiji'ther). What has happened ? 

Homer. Nothing. 

CoN.ST. tind^hiA. B. {together). Nothing? 

Homer. That's i)reciseiy what's the »natter. You told me the two 
wanted to kill each other, and thinking to draw him out, I Just hinted 
to Hugli Ransome that if he must tight Harold King, the safest method 
was to provoke him into a violent quarrel, and just shoot and kill him 
without drawing his pistol from his pocket. Well, drat me, instead of 
thanking me, he got indignant, and asked me if I thought he was an 
assassin. 1 tell you, there "s no tight in a Yankee anywhere ! 

Ahni';r. Nor in your blustering Southerner either. 

Hdmer {liercelu). Try lae and see if there isn't. {A.'&sv.k glares, Mrs. 
B. interferes-.) 

Abnkr. I tliought there would be no restraining this Harold King, and 
I had made up my mind to privately inform the police; but first, as 
a feeler, I hinted that Hugh Ransome probably meant to renew his at- 
tentions to Miss Burwell, when, to my surprise, he said that if Mr. 
Ransome should insist upon persecuting a lady, he was afraid he should 
be compelled to interfere. Afraid ! Nice talk that for "a tire-eater, eh ? 

Const. Where are thoy now ? 

HoMEii. In the parlor where the dancing is going on. 

Abner. Glaring at each other, {mimicijvj them^) 

C()N.ST. Oil, dear Mrs. Barbour, please go keep them apart. Send 
Mr. Ransome to me at once, here, and engage Harold King in conver- 
sation. Lose not a moment ! Quick ! 

Mrs. B. I understand, {going) Oh, you men! you men! I believe 
you were created on purpose to vex and torment us poor women ! 

[Exit. a. 

Homer {in front, not oh<<erving her exit). That's a dig at you, sir! 

Abner. She meant every word of it for tjou, sir. Didn't you, Mrs. 
Barbour? {turning, notices her atjsence.) 

[Exit, foUnined. A// Homkr. c. 

Const. Hugh Ransome here ! Have I miscalculated my strength, or 
is this emotion the expiring throb of the feeling which once bound me 
to him ? At the mention of his presence there fiitte<l into my heart the 
ghost of a long stilled pain — a remembered resentment." on! v half- 
checked by a wild relentful regret; a regret like the plaintive a|)peal of 
a motlierless child softly entreating admission to the heart which resists 
its entrance. Ah I 



12 WON BACK. 

Enter, c, quickly, Hugh Ransome. Her manner instantly changes. 

Hugh You did me the honor to request my presence here. {oWerina 
Inn /Kind.). ^ ■* -^ 

Const. {r,nilij, curtseying). Ah, Mr. Ransome ! Welcome to Wash- 
mgton. lour presence, though oi)portune, is a suri)rise. Of course 
you Have brought your betrotlied with you ? What is her name -> Ah 
;\iss Lulu Osborne. Of course she dances bewitchingly? You weio 
always fastidious in matters of personal grace. 

llmiu {gravely). I did not bring Miss Osborne with me; nor am I 
minded to dance. 

T ifl?f^'''' r^° • ^^ '^^'' "'^"' '^^^^'^ ^'■'""■^ you here ? Not office -seeking, 
1 hope There are now a thousand applicants for every vacant post 
Nor in the interest of tlie lobby. The honesty of the average member 
of Congress is sometliing perfectly awful in its grandeur. Ha, ha, ha ' 

11UGH. Is it possible tliat you liave forgotten that you demanded from 
me the return of your letters ? 

CoN.ST. {laughing) Pardon the dereliction, but I really had forgotten. 
It will be a source of constant regret to me if, through any misunder- 
standing of myrecpiest, you have put yourself to the inconvenience of 

by Sf " '" ^'^^^^"' ^^'^^" -^'"^ ""^''^^ j"*^ ^^ ^^'*^" ^'^''^ -^^"^ ^''«"' 

Hiujii. I counted no inconvenience too great to manifest my respect 
lor your command. j i <-" 

Const, {sarcastic). Oh, you are very kind ! 
ail he?" ^^*^'*"^ ViK^l^-cge of letters tied with riljlwn). You will find them 

S?rn'll"'/''7';'/'?-''?!-7 ■""'^- Thanks, {aside) He has kept the portrait! 
myttdKJnto-day!"" '^"'" ""^^"'"^ "^' ' P''^^"'"^" ^ '"^^' ^'^'^ 
^^(^'^f7i. (*«'•tv^s•^/o•). Indeed ! From the rei)orts of vour engagement to 
Mi^s Osborne I thought you long since held vour " freedom " wholly 
unfettered. I could not flatter myself that y..u had rested content in Jy 
cliains till now. -^ 

Hugh {deprecafingly). I did not so mean it. The only chains of yours 
1 over felt, were chains of flowers. Thev would have proven as hooks 
of steel, had I thought my love returned. 

CoNsT._ {laugJiing). A very ^ise and proper doubt. 'Tis evitlent in 
questioning your constancy I have dealt unjusllv witii your prudence 

Hugh. For Heaven's sake spare me your sarcasms. Has tiiis final 
parting no sadness in it for vou ? 

Coxsr. Sadness! Ha, ha', ha! What for ? Certainly not for so or- 
dinary occurrence as broken faith or shattered trust. Oh no no ' In 
tlie wide waste of life f/iut is too pettv a thing to claim more than u 
passmg thouQ;ht— a l>ityinj> smile! 

^v'-n {painf nil,/ surprised (If her tone). Yet those letters breathe 1 
a (litlerent sentiment \vlien you wrote them. 

CoN.sr. Di^d they ? Ah. fond and trusting simpleton that I was ! Ha, 
na, ha! Who think yon would write, as all do, to the objects of their 
lancv, could they fore.see the end of their little heart-romances? But 
oil no ! We all believe the vows, which tli«^n we pli-ht, to be eternal ! 
rta, na, ha! OMrr.s^ have awakened to rude and cruel disappointment. 
11 1.-. true. Ah. they never loved truly ! But we— oh ire are the happy 
exceptions to the rule. Ha, ha, ha !" The error is pardonable, thou^-h 
common: the variety beautiful, though trite. Shall we then blame it 
because you and I survive it ? Never ! Never ! Ha, ha, ha ! 



WON BACK. 



13 



HufiH. Yesterday I would have scarcely contradicted you; today 
your words fall as lieavilv ui)Ou uiy heart as clods of earth upon tlie 
coffin of one loved and lost. I will not quarrel with your laughter, 
though I feel how impossible 'tis for iiie to lift, witliout emotion, from 
the face of our dead past the pall which covers also the fondest illusions 
of youth, hope, and love. 

CoNsi'. (.■iurcas/iaill//). Your reproof is generous— very ! But really, 
did you expect to tind me ill over your — wU/ulj-itwa.l from my " fetters"; 
lean witii regret; pallul with suffering, and shriveled up with despair? 
Ha, ha, ha ! If so, I am very sorry for your disappointment. Icartse/j- 
■i)i'/) lia, ha, ha! 

Hugh {bitterly). I am glad to tind. Miss Burwell, that it costs you no 
pain to give me up. 

Coxsr'; None whatever. Ha, ha, ha ! There are hearts which cling 
in life to one faith long after its shrine has been shattered, and which 
die when its faith has p'erished. But those are instances which exist, I 
fear, only in the pages of romance, or in the seldom-written annals of 
broken-hearted w'omen. 

Hl'gh. They slander, then, who say that woman's heart changes 
liglitly ? 

Const. Of course they do ! Accusations against woman's constancy 
are uttered chietlv bv poets, themselves the least constant of human 
kind. But we are extending this discussion. We women are but 
slaves of society, you know, and dare not disregard the duties which 
society imposes upon us; the duty of subordinating the heart to socie- 
ty — i)f holding worldly wisdom sui)erior to romance. 
' Htuiii. Worldly wisdom /»«?/ grow out of experience; but youth is 
born only of feeling. 

Co.ssr. {tdJilaUzhi'j!)!). Rash man I Beware how you utter such heresy 
in the ears of society 1 

HiHJii. For pity's sake cease your mockings. Every word you utter 
is like a stab to my heart! Think you I suffer no pain in this separa- 
tion ? And yet, while it requires all the strength of my manhood to 
repress the cries I dare not utter, you can speak of separation only to 
laugh at it ! 

Const. {wifkjh(sh of scodi). And is that your thought? You see in 
your agitation only the heroism of love — a love which surrenders all it 
would itlie to retain, and yet loves on ! You read in my — calmness, 
only the indifierence of an inconstant nature, and in i/our suflering the 
endurance of a martyr ! Ha, ha, ha, ha ! This is the very apotheosis 
of self-love. 

Hugh. Of self-love? 

Const, {hi/ferl//). Yes; a self-love which could deliberately wreck all 
the fond hopes centred upon you, yet when touched !)y an apprehended 
loss of the love it had rejected, woiild now feign an emotion it long since 
ceased to feel ! 

Hugh. Feign ! By Heaven, you wrong ine ! 

C(»NST. I speak truly. You are wounded, not because I bleed, but 
because you do not see m.\' suffering; because instead of springing to 
clasp your hand m pained api)eal, I recede from your approach with in- 
difference. You would be better pleased could you awaken in my heart 
that Past, which flattered your vanity while it assailed my peace; could 
you regain once more, once more to fling away, the love your truth had 
failed to keep ! But, (iri//i c?nV.>.w/) jiardon me, iMr. liansome, no ut- 
terances of mine can ever enable you to know me as I am. The chasm 



14 WON BACK. 

which separates us is too wide and deep to be bridged by words ! And 
so let us shake hands and part — as friends ! 

Hugh. No, no ! You have niisjiidged me! I reahze now iiow pre- 
cious, bow peerless is the love I nii:j;]it have worn, jewel-like, upon my 
heart ! I fuel the wrong I did you — the wrong I did myself, and am 
prepared to repair with all my future the error of the past ! 

Const. What mean you ? 

Hugh. I mean that, condemned without a hearing, banished without 
regret, I yet return to regain the place in your heart I had thoughtlessly 
vacated. I find it barred against me by one whom your smile honors 
far beyond his worth. But I will not be thus ousted by a trickster. 1 
will 

Const. A trickster ! Of whom speak you ? 

Hugh. Of Harold King, who — — 

Const. Foi' shame ! Is t'lis your idea of manhood ? First to sport 
with the faith of a trusting woman, and then insult the friend who 
would rescue her from the depths of your betrayal ! Hugh Ransome, 
there remains to be said between us but one word more, {finnly) Fare- 
well ! (anddenlii chaugiiir/ from (/rare to gay) Be assured I no more re- 
tain you in my fetters. Ha, ha, ha ! {turning aicai/.) 

Hugh. And is it thus we part? Then so be it! I leave you free to 
wed another. But his love can bring you no joy that my heart will not 
already have mvoked for you. Adieu ! [Ri/shes out, c. 

Const, {stagnen^ and gntsjiti diatr for support). He is gone! Back 
to the world, and I am left alone ! {looking at letters) What use now are 
these fond records of faded dreams — of passionate hoi)es, which mock 
at despair — life's lost blossoms, withered in their bloom — memorials 
only of decay and death ? Gone ! AH gone ! Nothing for me now but 
vain regrets— tears, ceaseless tears ! {falls on tete-a-tete and buries her 
face, sobbing m her hands.) 

Re-enter, v.., Hugh, vdh poiirait. 

Hugh. I had forgotten your portrait, {she springs up) What! in tears, 
Constance ? 

Gossr. {lairghvig). In tenrsl Ha, ha, ha! Why should I weep ? That 
you never once praised the toilet upon which I spent hours of serious 
thought ? Nor even once repeated the trite but pretty compliments 
with which, on former days — before you escaped from my "fetters" — 
you praised the eloquence of my eyes, the music of my voice, the grace 
of my every movement ? Ha, ha, ha ! Tin^se omissions are enough, I 
grant you, to drive many women to desjjair; but, you see, I bear mi/ 
deprivations not only without tears, but — Ha, ha, ha !— even with 
laughter, {waltz music heard) Ah, there is the music, and I am pledged 
to Harold King for the next waltz, (moving gaihi fjack, she staggers; 
grasps sofa for su/jport, and by a desperate effort forces herself to 
smile.) 

Enter, c, quickly and excitedly, Harold. Checks himself at c. d. and 
stands gloomily icdh folded arms. 

Hugh {adrancmg to her). Great Heavens ! You suffer ! I have de- 
ceived myself then. 

HxROUi) {advancing he/ iref'n them). No! You have deceived her, 
and for that deceit you shall answer to me! 



WON BACK. 15 

Hugh (eagerly). With all my heart, sir, whenever and wherever }'ou 
please! (Constancy ict//i a shriek springs betiaeen them.) 
Const. Oh no, gentlemen ! — not that, I entreat you ! — not that ! 

Enter, c, quiddij, Mrs. B., Kate, Austin, Fijank, Abnek, and Homer. 

Omnes. "What is the matter ? 

Const, (loi/h forced ci>nij)osure). Oil nothing; the heat of the room 
momentarily affected me; that is all. Your arm, Mr. King, {/a/res //is 
arm, and in an intense whisper, aside to him) Not another word ! For 
vnj sake! {aloud, gaih/) Come; we shall be late for the waltz. Mr. 
Ransome (with low eurtsey) once more 

Hugh (iidvancuig with extended hand). Once more. Good-bye ! 

Const, (at door, impressivebj). No, not good-bye, but — Farewell ! 
{curtsey. Waltz, forte. Picture. 

modekate curtain. 



ACT H. 

SCENE.— A?rtJ«e as before. The next morning. Music. 
Enter, c, Kate aiid I^ulu Osborne, the latter in travelling costume. 

Kate. What a lovely surprise, Lulu. New York must be awfully dull 
without you. 

Lulu. My coining is nothing unusual, Kate. Papa brings me to 
Wasliington every winter. He has so many interests at stake, you 
know — steamsiiip lines and iron mines ' 

Katk (i)ilern(pUn<j]. Oh ! that's a rhyme — " steamship lines and iron 
mines." Beautiful! 

Lulu. And papa says members of Congress are not to be trusted oat 
of sight. 

Ka-i'e [gravely). I have heard the same thing before. They say few 
members of Congress are to be trusted unless you "i^ee" them. 

Lur.u (reproinngtn). Ah, Kate, tiiat is slang. 

Kate (gravely). And how did you come to learn it then ? 

Lulu (gaily). At tlie dear old Packer Institute. It used to make the 
professoi'S green with rage to hear it; but we always looked as demure 
as — as wet umbrellas, and declared we didn't mean it in that liglit. 

Kate (laughing). And so did we at V:issar. It was awfully funny, 
one day, when, after an unusually dull lesson on tlie lunar inlluences, 
one of the girls told Professor Roberts to " shoot the moon ! " Ila, lia, 
ha ! (both girls lau/h heartily) The professor tumbled over in a deail 
faint— ha, ha, ha! — had to be carried to a lounge, and have ice put to 
the back of his head. Ha, ha, ha! He found out the culprit, and gave 
her an awful report, though 'twas Belle Dupuj'^, and he was "maslied" 
on her. Ha, ha, ha ! 

Lulu (sighing). All our fun ends, Kate, when we leave school. 

Katk. Mine shan't, I know. 

Lulu. Suppose your husband objects to all "levity." That's the 
word, dear. 



16 WON BACK. 

Kate {(irchly). Well, I haven't got a husband yet, and when 1 do get 
one, I shall pick out a fellow with good teeth. 

Lulu. Good teeth ! What has tliat to do with it ? 

Kate. Very much, my dear ; then he'll be all tlie time laugliing and 
sliowing them. And I shall have a regular marriage contract, and liave 
it there expressly set down in all the formal and awe-inspiring phrases 
of law, tiiat. wliereas, the said What's-liis name and the said Wliat-do- 
you-call-her, having solemnly determined upon uniting tiieir diflerences 
in tlie holy bonds of nnxtrimony; and, wliereas laughter having been 
judicially pronounced a medicine of the heart by one King Solomon, it 
is hereby mutually agreed, that these contracting parties shall indulge 
in plenty of said medicine at all times and in all places, but ])articularly 
at meal time, and in the presence of all very solemn prigs and all aw- 
fully dignitiecl bi.;-wias. Ha, ha, ha! 

Lui.u. Ml/ lord and master, that is to be, seems now to be cheery- 
natured enough, but marriage changes men dreadfnll>'. 

Kate. Yes; subdues them, as it were. But confess. Lulu, that in 
spite of your aliected ignorance, you knew of Hugh Eausome's presence 
at Washington, and timed your visit accordingly. 

Lklu. 1 knew nothing whatever about it — had not heard from him 
for n\er a fortnight. 

K vii;. Not heard from him in a fortnight ! — two weeks, fourteen days, 
three hundred and thirty-six hours ! And calls himself a lover ! I in- 
sist upon mij sweethearts writing me one note every day, Sundays 
includei!. 

Lui.r. Sweethearts! In the plural, eh? How many have you, Kate ? 

Katic (ih^iiiiii-elii). Only two at present. 

Lulu. Who is lite, man ? 

Katk. Now you won't tell, will you? Mind, this is in the strictest 
confidence. Austin Brookes, a young Virginian, with plenty of money, 
and awfully jealous. 

Lulu (r/rareli/). That's bad; jealous lovers may make good masters, 
but not good husbands 

Katk. There can be no love without jealousj'. Honestly, aren't you 
jealous of Mr. Ransome ? 

Lulu. No! 

Katr. Not in the slightest degree, ever so little, the tiniest bit ? 

Lulu. Not in the least. 

Katr. Then you don't love him. You can't humbug me with that 
sort of nonsense. 

Lur.u. It is all a matter of temperament. Are you engaged to this 
Mr. Brookes ? 

Kate (pniifinr/). No-o. That is, I think not. Of course we've both 
talked a whole lot of the usual nonsense about being born for each 
other, and dying if we can't get each other, etcetera; but nothing deti- 
nite has been settled yet. Mamma saj's we are too young to marry. 

Lulu. Well, she ought to know. 

Kate. Yes; considering that she ran away with pa, and married him, 
before she was seventeen, {poiitui'j) But that's the way with old folks 
generally. They say to us young folks, "Oh, {/imids ■upUfte.d) you 
mustn't "do tJmt ; it won't be proper, you know," and put on such jiious 
airs that no one would ever suspect Ihein of knowing "how it is your- 
self,' you know. Yet there are very few of the naughty-nice things of 
life niiich these blessed old saints haven't had their share of; yes, and 
more too. 



WON BACK. 17 

Lulu {laughing). They would be bad advisers if deficieot in experi- 
ence. Who is the other lover ? 

Kati:. Mr. — stop awhile; I've got to think of his name. Oil, Frank 
Powers, of New York— a friend of your Mr. Ransonie. 

Lulu (langlung). Not know the name of your lover? Oh Kate ! 

Kate \iuuuceni!y). Well, 1 never met him in all my life till last night; 
(IjrigkteiUiig) and names don't amount to much anyway, unless you're 
going to be married to one; then they are very important. 

Lulu. This is a case of love at tirst sight, then ? 

Kate. Certainly — on hts side. That is the only way the genuine 
article comes. The second-sight kind is all make-believe. 

Lulu. Juliet was Romeo's second love, and Mr. Ransome tells me / 
am his second; yet I know he loves me better than his lirst, whoever 
sht: may have been. 

Kate (senous/i/). Well, now, don't you bet on that, child. {hrigJiten- 
i'lg) Mr. What's his-name danced three sets with me in succession, and 
oh my ! wasn't Austin jealous ! Ha, ha, ha! 

Lulu. You evidently enjoyed it ? 

Ka I'E. Of course I did. It shows that a girl is of some importance 
wlien the fellows get to wrangling about her. I'd give the world if some 
of tliem would only get up a duel about me. 

Ll;lu ^.s■//ot■^v(/). A duel ! Oil Kate ! 

Kate. Yes, a duel ! They needn't tight, you know; very few duels 
result in that. There is either an "amicable adjustment," or the police 
mterfere, or something of that sort. Why, I know ladies — real tip-top 
society ladies — who would like to have their lovers scalped, just for "the 
notoriety of the thing. 

Lulu {shorh-ed). Oh ! Well, but only Indians do that. 

Kate. Ila, ha, ha! Oh, how awfully "fresh" you are ! and you a 
New York girl too. My dear child, doiVt make the mistake of thinking 
that the only savages in this great and glorious country dwell among 
the lava-beds of the Far West. I have seen lots of them here in the 
private parlors of Washington. 

Lulu. Savages in Washington! 

Kate. Right you are. Only they wear dress coats and white neck- 
ties, and kill with slanderous tongues, instead of tomahawks and scalp- 
ing knives. 

Lulu {Umghinghj). And how do j^ou like Mr. What-do-you-call-hini 
Powers ? 

Kate. Very much, and that notwithstanding he is a Northern man. 

Lulu. Well, is that a i)ersonal disqualitication hereabouts ? 

Kate. W-e-11, it isn't really; but society in Washineton is divided 
into North and South by a sort of social Mason and Dixon's line. I'm 
a Virginian, you know, and so, of course. I'm on the DixiR side of the 
line. {li>nks amiinJ) Sh ! Here comes Austin ! {with suppressed giggle) 
In the sulks yet. See me cure him. 

Enter, c. D., slowly and sullenh/, Austin. Kate a feels not In see Jmn. 

Well, as I was saying, we had a perectlv lovely time. I danced three 
Sets with Mr. 

-XusTiN. Gootl-morning, Miss Barbour. 

Kate (frigidhj, scdrve.lti tnrninn around^. Good-morning, Mister 
Brookes, {resuming eonrersation) Three sets with'Afr. 

Austin. I wanted to speak to you, but as I find you are not alone — 



18 WUN BACK. 

Kate {coldlij introducing Imr). This is my friend, Miss Lulu Osborne. 
Mr. Austin Broolies, Lulu. ya-inkin<j) Tliree sets with Mr.- 

Austin. Will you be alone this evening, Miss Barbour ? 

Ka'J'e. Possibly yes— possibly no. Anything very particular ? 

Austin. N-o-o! I 

Kate {indifferently). Oh well, as I was saying, I danced three sets 
with Mr. 

Austin. I hope you enjoyed the hop last night ? 

Kate i^wiUi affected enthusiasm). Oh, very much — had a charming 
time. {s})eaking rdiiidli/ to escape appreliended intn- nipt ion) Danced 
tinee times with Mr. — M.V.— {aside to Lulu) Good gracious, what's his 
name ? 

Lulu {aside to Kate, in whisper) Powers! 

Kate {continuing). With Mr. Bowers— a most delightful partner — 
{icinking at Lulu) so very graceful, and so very cheerful. That, you 
know, is everything. 1 hate sulky people. 

Austin [i-esentfudt/). Indeed ! 

Kate {innocentlij). Yes; don't you? 

AusiiN {rfsoitfnl tone). That being the case, Mr. Powers having been 
so graceful, and so cheerful. I am sorry now I didn't resign my little 
share of your attention, and so have afforded you a more extended op- 
portunity for enjoyment. I — I— Good-morning, ladies. 

[k.cif, c. D., in jealous rage, supjtrcssed. Kate falls into seat, 
laughing heartdy. 

Lui.u. Now he has gone off mad ! You acted unwisely, Kate. 

Kate. Not a bit of it. It's all riglit. Pve got him now just where I 
wanted him. Ha, ha, ha ! Come on the balcony, dear. Mr. Powers 
will see me, and be certain to join us, and then my jealous cavalier will 
come flying to my side again. Oh, I know :dl about it, dear. Pve tried 
it before. \Exit Katk and Lulu, c, laughing. 

Enter, r. 1 e.. Hugh <■?»(/ Fkank. 

Fhank. You went too far last night, Hugh. I only wonder that so 
confirmed a fire-eater as Harold King has not challenged you. 

Hugh. And if he should, I would accept it and fight him on his own 
terms. 

FnANK. And be killed for your recklessness. 

HuGfT I care not. Death has no terrors for me. Life has now be- 
come the suicide of Hope. There is but one hai)py life for me. The 
pathway to that is illumined only by her love 1 

Frank (^■i'/hinr,). Ah ! I wish I could talk of love m that way, Hugh. 

HuiJii. You have onlv to feel the passion to find its voice. Youth 
needs no interpreter. But pardon my selfish blindness. Are you in 
tron])le? You seem depressed. 

Frank {siqhing). Yes. I had a heavy tumble last night. 

Hugh {anxiovshi). A tnmlile ! Did you hurt yourself much ? 

Frank Oh, I don't mean that kind of a tumble. I tumbled in love 
last night, with one of the brightest and sweetest little angels I ever 
met ! 

Hugh. Oh ! Ha, ha, ha ! What is her name ? 

Frank. Kate Barbimr. Lovely name, isn't it? I can see but one 
objection; she is a Southern girl, though residing in Washington, 
and 

HuGir. And is of course opjiosed to a union with the North, or rather 
with a Northern man. Is that it ? 



WON BACK. 19 

Frank. Not exactly. But it begins to look as though the North and 
South may come to blows, and {lifsitdtinr/lij) in that case — it would be — • 
rather unpleasant, you know, to have — a 

Hugh. To have a Southern wife. I see. 

Frank. No; to have a Southern mother-in-law. {looking off) By Jove! 
There she is on the balcony. Excuse me. [runs out.) 

Hucjir. I musi win her back ! 'Tis vain to reason with the heart. I 
love her, and all the rest is as nothing to me ! 

Oilier, c. D., qiiickl//, Constance. 

Const. I was seeking you ! You must leave here — must go away 
from Washington at once ! 

Hugh {coolly). At whose bidding, pray ? 

Const. At mine ! 

Hugh. And is my pi'esence then hateful to you ? 

Const. No, no ! Not that. But— but— Oh, if you value your life you 
must leave ! 

Hugh. My life ! Ah, you dread the anger of Harold King ! 

Const. I meant not that. But if you have any regard for my peace — 
have yet one wisii to atone for the years of suffering you imposed upon 
me, then, by that wish, I implore you to leave this city at once, {he 
.sh(iJ,-es ///.v hiutil. uegdlivaly) For my sake! 

Hugh (quickly tui-ninr/ to her). For youi- sake. Constance, I will re- 
main ! My pride lights in vain with truth, and at your feet I humble 
head and heart! Pardon the error of the past, and restore me with your 
mercy the golden promise of love's future. I beseech this by more of 
passion than prayer ever breatlied I By the rights I have over you 

Const. Rights ! and over mc.' 

Hugh. Yes, over you! For what greater right could belong to a man 
than tlie right to repair in the future, the wrongs of the past ? 

Const. You forget, sir, tliat your hand and honor are pledged to an- 
otlier. 

Hugh. I forget nothing ! My honor will live wherever love can live 
unstained. Poor honor indeed were it, to give to another, the life of 
which you hold the key. 

Const. And have I not alwaj«s held it, then ? You told me I did, 
years ago. Yet, when absence, or worse still, self-interest, apiilied its 
test to your sincerity, you forgot your tvoiXx, my peace, and Hung away 
the key to your life ! Tin-ew awa,y, at tlie same time, the lieart you luid 
nearly broken — thrust away from your lii)s, untasted. tlie libations of all 
my life and all my love ! Yet you speak now, as if in one instant, witli 
a few words, passionately uttered, you could restore the broken visions 
of raiiturous youth, or brush from tiie soul of Love the dust which years 
of disappointment and despair had gathered tliere ! 

Hugh. I deserve all your reproaches. The crime of all my existence 
was to have known you in vain ! The duty most sacred to truth, most 
hallowed by honor, is that wliich has led me to your feet ! Speak, and 
restore me the blessing I had thought forever losi—ynur love ! 

Const. In spite of all. I listen fo you with a joy I cannot disguise ! 
Eest is sweet after strife; and I have striven so hard to forget all you 
now ask me to remember. My heart is like a storm-beaten ark, wildly 
hurled over the wliirlpool of Time. The dove flew wearily from my 
bosom many, many years ago, and returns not yet. Heaven only knows 
what rainbow may lift the promise of hoi)e ;ibove the clouds of despair; 



20 WON BACK. 

but your voice, Hu;j;h, sounds now to my listening heart like the prelude 
of a new and yearned for dawn ! 

Hu(!ii {ardeitllfj). Heaven bless you for those sweet words, which only 
upon tears could have arisen. 

Const, {graveli/). First hear me through. The question for my con- 
science to determine is a serious one. I have burnt out within liie the 
fuel of love; can I ever again renew its tlaiiie? Can the dead flowers 
of fancy and passion ever And tlieir bloom and their fragrance again ? 

Hu(JH {(irdentlij). Yes, yes ! Let my love be the prophet of your 
fears ! 

Enter, L. 1 E., quicJchj, Frank. He saltiies Constance. 

Frank {(/rare/ij). Are you engaged, Hugli ? Will you excuse me, Miss 
Burwell? I want only to say one woid to him in private. 

Const. Certainly, {tuims away. FiiAXK mtd Hugh converse earnest- 
ly ainvrt, up atage.) 

Enter, c. D., quickly, Mrs. Barbour. 

Mrs. B. {seriondy, in intense tchisper). I have been looking for you 
all over the hotel ! 

Const, {anxiously). What has happened ? 

Mrs. B. {apart to her). Something awful. Harold King has chal- 
lenged Hugh Ransome ! 

Const. Oh Heavens ! I dreaded this. 

Mrs. B. {too/cing toumrds Hugh). Sh ! He doesn't know it yet. 'Tis 
only by accident I found it out. Mr. King being a stranger in Wash- 
ington, had no friend to act for hnn, so he had to take Homer Cooke, 
who is as vain of the office as if he were second to a marriage instead 
of a murder. (Con.stance shudders at the u'ord.) 

Const, {icith tender glance at Hugh). What is to be done ? This duel 
must be prevented at any cost. If they meet, Harold King will kill 
him ! I know his fatal skill, and his cruel purpose! 

Mrs. B. Well, in the first place, we must prevent the delivery of the 
cliallenge. / will attend to that. 

Const. (an.rtousIy\ But can you do it? 

Mrs. B. My dear, there is no telling what a woman can^t do with a 
fool like Homer Cooke. Meantime you must see Harold, and induce 
him to withdraw the challenge. 

Const. I will try. But not one word of this to Hugh Ransome. His 
pride would rebel against any attempt to save his life at the expense of 
what he may conceive to be his honor. 

Mrs. B. Trust me for that. But be quick to see Harold; I will lay 
in wait for Homer Cooke. I'll pick his pocket but that I'll get the 
challenge that he bears. 

Const, {going, aside). And I was beginning to hope again. Heaven 
grant thatwhat I have sown ui bitter tears I may one day reap in hai)py 
smiles. {Exit, c. Mrs. B. r. 1 e. Hugh a ndYRAUK advance. 

HuciH. You did wrong to strike Mr. Brookes, and in the presence of 
ladies too 

Frank. I know it. I was a darned fool ! All lovers are — present 
comimny excepted. But he was so exasperating — called me " a demmed 
Yankee." 

Hl'(jii. Well, you are not ashamed of the name, I hope? 

Frank. Certainly not. But I'm not a Yankee, you know. I was 
born in Connecticut, not down East. 

Hugh. Of course he'll challenge you. 



WON BACK. 21 

Frank (luf/uhrioush/). Oh, of course he will, the jealous ass. 

Hugh. Of course you will figlit him? 

Frank. Of course I won't ! No, sir, not if 1 can help it; I'm no fire- 
eater. Besides, I am opposed to dueling on moral grounds. 

Hugh. So am I. But there are many things which, though my con- 
science can't approve, society compels me to accept. Capital punish- 
ment, for instance, and dueling. 

Fkanmv. Well, I think it barbarous, and all who practice dueling no 
better than savages. 

Hlmjii. There are two sides to that question. Even so wise and good 
a man as Dr. Samuel Johnson declarctl that it was impossible to con- 
demn harshly any man wlio set lii^ honor above his life. 

Frank. Oii, Sam Johnson be blowed, the literary bully ! 

Enter, c. d., Homicr, very jwmpoiisly and formal. Mits. Barbour rtms 
in from r. 1 k., and meets him. 

Hugh {seeing Homkr). Sh ! {conrerscs apart 'With. Frank.) 

Mrs. B. ( jintling her arm within Homicr's. atid trying to withdraw 
him). My dear Mr. Cooke, I hive been seeking you everywhere. 

HoMKii {rery iiooi/ionst'/, hot.-iiif/ orer tnirin- 1 Frank). Will you ex- 
cuse me for five minutes? I have a most delicate and {ominonsly) im- 
portant mission to attend to. 

Mrs B {'ift'e ■ho'iiiii'ln). So have I, and I vlust\v^i,\e your assistance 
in it. I won't listen to a refusal. What ! yon a Southern gentleman, 
and yet mv^alhiut'! ('traivs him aside, fomtfy hot</i)iff his lappel. He 
smilingly rcle'd.x. Af'er soiiik nianfenneriyti she is seen to abstract the 
challenge f-om one of his pockets) Meantime 

Enter, o. D., rery pompously, Abner. 

Frank (ror'/'/a//'/). Ah, Decker, how are you? 

Ab'sktS{I lowing coll I III). Sir, I am the bearer of a private note from 
my friend, Mr. Austin Brookes. 

Frank (irilting, nnoh.<erred. Aside) Oh Lord! (loJa'ng offered note 
very gingerly, opens and glances orer it) He has cl)allenfred me ! {aside 
/oHugh) Yon know the purport of this note ? [to Abnkr, who hows) Well, 
p-please say to Mr. Brookes that !• am very sorry, but 

Hugh {setting hiin f/nictli/ aside and odrancino). My friend is sorry 
to violate the laws against dueling, but since Mr. Brookes has done hiiri 
the honor of challenging, he will find great pleasure in meeting him at 
the tirst opportunity. 

F\iA^K{l)lnstering). The very first opportunity, sir; the sooner the 
better. My friend Ransome will attend to all the necessary details, sir, 
sucli as time, and place, and weapons, and coffins. Yes, sir, coffins; 
for of course this will be a duel to the death 1 

Abnkr {bonding). Very well, sir. We shall be deliirhted. {aside) Durn 
my hat ! I thouglit he was oi)posed to dueling. Why, he's a perfect 
fire eater ! (Fiiank sirnt.s up and down stage. Hugh and Abner con- 
verse apart. 

Hugh. Y'ou shall have our formal reply within an hour. 

HoMioR (feeling for letter). I am very'sony, Mrs. Barbour, but busi- 
ness Ijefore pleasure, {approaching Hugh) Ahem ! Mr. Hugh Ransome, 
[ believe? 

HroH (ndrancing). That is my name, sir. 

HoM!;it {formally). I have the honor, sir, {feeling pockets) as the 



22 WON BACK. 

friend of my friend, Mr. Harold King, to deliver you this conlidential 
note, {feeling for it) Where the devil is it ? 

Hugh. I expected it, sir, and shall be happy to receive it. 

Homer (h/irried/// e.i-nmiiiiu,/ /lis pockets). Thank you. I must apolo- 
gize for presenting it here; hut I couldn't llnd you in your room, and— 
and— Strange ! I certainly had it when I entered this parlor, ilookina 
over the floor.) ^ ^ 

Mits. B. {sympathelicaUy). What is the matter ?— have you lost some- 
thmg ? 

Homer {searcliiiig fl,onr). Yes, a note. 

Abner. Was it endorsed ? 

Homer {iudigncDif). It was not a note of hand, sir, but 

Mus B. [with affectedjealou.su). Not a note of the heart— not a love- 
note, I hope ! 

Homer {guic/d//). No, ma'am — no, ma'am ! 

Arner. Thost- are too scarce for you to lose even one of 'em eh ' 

Homer {fiercel;/). Sir! I— that is to say, you 

Hugh. Oh, never mind it now, sir. You'can easily procure a dupli- 
cate. Meantune say to your friend that I will waive all formalities in 
my desn-e to meet his wishes half way. I shall await you in my room 
for the rest of tlie afternoon. {Imics) Come, Powers. 

„ Exit c.,f()lloa-edheroicalb/ hi/YKAtis.. 

HOMER [stdl looking about room, suspiciously). A very strange loss, 

Mrs B. {laughing). Are you quite certain you had it 1 {shoioinn note 
to audience ■unobseriied h;/ ot/iers.) 

Homer. Quite. I started from King's room with it scarcely half an 
hour ago. 

Abxer {suspicion sly). Did you stop anywhere on the way— in the 
bar-room, for instance ? 

Homer (indignant). Sir! Your insinuation is insulting, and I will 
hold you to account for it. 

Abner. All right. Oh, you can't frighten me with vour vaporings. 

Homer {contemptuously), l-'righten you ! I wouldn't wa.'^te i)Owder 
on such game as you. 

Ab.ner. I want you to understand that I am "game " too, to the back 
tooth, sir ! 

Homer. You shall be put to the test, sir. Insolent Yankee ! 

Abner. Do it if you dare ! Blustering disunionist ! 

Homer, Dare ! To me ! Enough. No more words. Let us have 
deeds now. {starting np sfa>/e) Come on ! 

Abner {following him). All right. Come on ! 

Mrs. B. {seizing each I,y the coal-tail). You shall not go, gentlemen, 
i ou shall not ! There will be bloodshed ! 

Homer. Of course there will be— buckets full of blood! He has 
brought it all on himself. He has voluntarily sought death by abusing 
mo. and through me, the social dignity, the "civic grandeur, the consti- 
stilntional rights of my native South. Come on! [trying to break 
an-ay.) 

Abner {struggling to release himself). I am ready and willing. You 
have provoked an untimely death by sneering at the "courage, the virtue, 
and the superior intelligence of the free and independent North, all of 
wliich arc personilied in me ! Let me go, Adelgitha. I am desperate ! 

{strni/ghng.) 

Homer. So am I. Don't hold me, dear Mrs. Barbour; you only make 
matters worse. Besides, you may tear my coat. 



WON BACK. 23 

Mrs. B. No, you shall not go ! You shall not light! {shrieks.) 
Enter, c. D., quickly, Kate and Austin. 

Kate and Austin {together). What is the matter? 

Mks. B. Help me to hold them ; they are going to tight a duel !* 

Homer and Abnek {toijether). Will you let us go, or not? 

Austin. Certainly, if you will both sacredly promise to tight. 

Homer a)ul Abnek {togethrr). We do— we do! 

Austin. Release them', Mrs. Barbour, (she dne.-^ .w) There. The cars 
start for Bladensburg at twelve. Or, if you jirefer it, you can quietly 
blaze away at each other in the tifty-foot lot at the back of my ollice. 

Homer. Agreed I That suits me. 

Abnek. And me too. 

Austin. Which proposition do j'ou prefer ? 

Homer and Abneii {together). Both ! Both of 'em, sir. 

HoMKR {sUirting). Come on! 

Abn'er {starting). The sooner the better! 

Kate {aside to' him). Oh, stop them, Austin. They are desperate. 

Homer. Stop ! Now that I think of it, as this combat is likely to 
prove fatal to one of us 

Abner. Fatal to one or botli of us. 

Homer {gulping). It occurs to me that I had better make my will tirst. 

Abni;r {readili/j. Certainly. That's wise. Make your will before you 
die, sir. 

Homer. I have a great deal of real estate to dispose of 

Abner. And 1 a large amount of four-per-cent. bonds 

Homer. .And my affairs being very complicated, I need time to 
straighten them out. 

Abner {niagnfcnimously). Certainly, sir. Take all the time you 
want, now. Where you are going, sir, you'll have no further use for 
time. 

Homer {grandUj). Very well, sir. I shall be ready for you iu four 
weeks from to-day. 

Abner. Agreed ! You may issue invitations to your funeral four 
weeks from to-day. 

Homer {pompously). Gentlemen — ladies— I salute you. {hows grave- 
ly to them — makes contemptuous face at Abner) Worm ! {Exit, c. D. 

Austin ( unnking at Kate). I aiii glad. Decker, your little affair has 
been put off. 

Abner {heroically). I am not. I wanted to have it off my hands at 
once. 

Kate. Oh, Mr. Decker, I had no idea you were such a desperado. 

Austin. But you forget you have an affair of mine to arrange. You 
couldn't, in common fairness, die till that is settled, you know. 

Abner. True; 1 had forgotten. Ah, well, that reconciles me to the 
delay. 

Kate {anxiously). What affair do you refer to, Austin ? You don't 
mean to tell me that you have challenged that insignificant Mr. Powers? 

Austin {grandly). I do. My honor has been assailed. He struck me 
in the nose, before you, and I have challenged him to mortal combat. 

Kate {aside, gleefully). Glorious! A duel! and all on my account. 
Oh. won't that be jolly. 

Austin. Only blood can wash out such an insult. The issue is, his 
life, or mine ! 



24 WON BACK. 

Kate (aside, apprehensivelij). Oh Lord ! (almid, anxioushj) But per- 
haps he won't tight. 

Abner. Oh, won't lie ! He's llie most unquenchable tire-eater I ever 
saw. 

Ka'i'e. When is the tiglit to take place, and where ? 

Ais.fER. It isn't settled yet; but of course it will be at Bladensburg at 
daybreak to morrow. (Kate starts suddenl// up the staye) Where are 
you going, Kate ? 

Katk. To tell the police! A girl has trouble enough to find a beau, 
without being sulijected to the chance of his throwing his life away after 
she has has gut him ; so I shall simply inform the authorities. 

{She vMiis out, c. D. 

Austin. Kate! Stop her, Decker! Kate, if you disgrace me I'll 
never speak to you again. Dash it, she's in earnest. Stop, Kate ! 

[Runs out, c. D. 

Abner (foUnnung rapidl//, shouting). Head her ofl", Austin ! This 
tight must not be interrupted. 

Mrs. B. Mr. Decker, do you know what the penalty is in this District 
for bearing a challenge ? 

Abner (impatient to get out). No, ma'am; and, meaning no rudeness, 
I don't want to know. 

Mrs. B. One year's imprisonment! 

Abner.. Thunder (fails into sent in consternation.) 

Mrs. B. And a tine of one thousand dollars ! 

Abner. And lightning ! [Runs out rapidly, R. 1 E. 

[Exit Mrs. B., l. 1 e,, laughing. 

Enter, c, Constance and Harold. 

Const. Thank Heaven that I have found you in time ! You must not 
tight Hugh Ransome. Do you understand ? 

Harold. I confess that I do not understand. 

Const. What right have you to set such a claim upon imj heart as shall 
render the attempt of another to win it a crime deserving death ? What 
instinct of true honor can demand the assassination of Hugh Ransome? 

Harold {indignant). Assassination ! You speak without thought, I 
trust ? 

Const. Assassination is the word. You are skilled in the use of 
weapons: he is not. You by training and inclination are a duelist; 
he, by education and through conscience, is opposed to the practice. 
Yet you would play his pride against his soul, and force him into a duel, 
only that you may remove from your path a rival in love ! I tell you, 
Harold King, that if this duel goes on, and you kill Hugh Ransome, no 
matter what the world may say of it, in the eye of God, and under your 
own conscience, the act will be one of deliberate murder ! 

Harold. You are mad to talk thus. He humiliated you by casting 
you oir, and would, if be dared, supplement that wrong to you by insult 
to nie. 

Const. He has neither humiliated me nor insulted you. You have no 
right therefore to demand his life. 

"Harold. Then by man's last desperate law — the law of self-defence — 
I will takp. the riglit; the right to avenge for a deceived woman her de- 
fraud(Kl past— to secure for her an unquestioned freedom in the future! 

Const. I ask from you no cliampionship. My wrongs, such as they 
are, I leave to the arbitrament of Heaven. 



WON BACK. 25 

HviioLU. Then I shall acl in behalf of my own peace, which he has 
assailed. 

Goxsr. 'Tis not so. No act of his fairly menaces your peace. You 
palter with your conscience in making the assertion. You will com- 
prouiise with crime if you brine; harm to Iiim! 

H\ROi.D {enra.ijed). Go not too far in your defence of Hugh Ransome ! 
'Tis little you care what comes to me, so you but save Iiis life, to bless 
it witli your love ! 

Const, {indignant). Harold King! How dare you speak thus to me? 

Haroi.d. Because truth and right speak witli my voice. You rejected 
my otlered hand to-day, because you dared not wound his pride, and so 
sacrificed instead my peace ! By Heaven ! he shall not live to boast his 
triumph over my heart! 

GoNsr. Rash inan ! Are you so blinded by the passion of revenge as 
not to see that your words tlireaten my lionor as a woman ? 

Harold. What word of mine, I demand in the name of the purest 
womanhood, menaces a woman's honor? 

Const. What word? Every word you have spoken! Suppose I 
sluaUl pjrmit tliis duel— should permit you to kill this man, whose only 
offence is, that lie loves me, and. afterwards wed his slayer ? Would 
you not not feel that your name was dislionored with something more 
than shame, if she who bore it had been the cause of the murder ? 

Hakold (unfirUij). By Heaven, you must not repeat that word ! 

Const. Is there no dishonor in "the smile of a woman, if men, when 
gazing at her, can say, " In that smile is a grave "' ? By all the human 
laws of man's heart— by all the sanctities of woman's honor — by the 
dread wrath of God himself, I forbid this crime ! 

Harold. Too late ! I have gone too far to recede. 

Const. Then 1 swear to j^ou by my every hope of heaven, that unless 
j'ou recall your challenge — unless your menace against Hugh Ransome's 
life be withdrawn, I will never again speak to you, except to say fare- 
well ! 

Harot.d {itfler a paHS(i). And if I spare his life — this enemy who has 
forced himself between my heart and its happiness — you will not wed 
him ? On your soul's peace, I demand a truthful answer. 

Const. {<-;:in:i>-> '///). Wed him? Is he free to offer mo his hand? 

Harold. By Heaven, you evade the truth ! You dare not avow what 
you feel. He is not free to wed you with honor, liut he will tnk'^ his free- 
dom, and together, in the plenitude of your joys, you would mock at 
my desolation. 

Const. No, no ! You wrong us in that. 

Harold (f/uic/di/). Wrong n.s ! Ha ! Already in thought you coui)le 
him with yourself ! Beware, woman, how you provoke the storm in a 
man's heart! Beware now you play fast and loose with a man's despair ! 

Const, {firnili)). You wrong me. Put my truth, my strength, to any 
test, and I will approve them to your satisfaction. 

Habold {qiiicklu). Ha ! Say you so ? Then I will put you to the test. 
Swear by your honor never to wed without my consent, (she s/irinkx 
from him) Ha ! You shrink away from me. You are willing to sacri- 
fice my peace, but not to jeopardize your own. I am answered, {mcii^ 
ncingly) It remains now but for me to act. 

Const. Stop ! You are not yet answered. One question more, ere I 
too (tct. If I pledge my soul to this cruel oath, will you too swear that 
you will recall your challenge, and that under no circumstances will you 
lift your hand against his life ? 

Harold {fii'mly). Yes. Under no circumstances will I menace Hugh 



26 WON BACK. 

Raiisome's life, unless war should arise, and we meet upon the field of 
battle. This I solemnly swear upon my soul— ui)on my honor ! Is it a 
compact ? 

Const, (extending her hand, in intense whisper). It is. I swear it! 
(releases her hand) Now leave me alone, (she staggers, he springs for- 
ward and supports tier with arm about her a-aist, ardently kissing her 
disengaged hand.) 

Enter, r. e., excitedly, HuGir. 

Hugh (aside). Ha ! In his arms ! (aloud, in intense suppressed an- 
ger) I was informed, sir, you proposed sending me a personal communi- 
cation. It has not yet reached me. I trust your prudence has not had 
the better of your passion. 

Const, (springing forward). Hugh! — Mr. Ransome ! 

Harold (with forced calmness). 1 understand your taunt, but (with 
triumphant glance toward Constance) can now aflbrd to despise it. It, 
however, comes fitly from a man who broke his pledge to one woman, 
and would break it to another, did i permit it. 

UviiH (angered). Did you permit it ! So you arrogate to yourself 
authority over her actions ? (crossing excitedly to Constance) You heard 
what that man says, Miss Burwell; does it cover any recent decision of 
yours '! Does he speak with your consent — with your sanction ? 

Const, (in bated breath, standing erect and passive, with tlie intensi- 
ty of suppi-essed emotion). I — I 

Harold (in irhisper to her, aside). His life, remember ! 

Const. Oh, my God ! what can I say ? (covers her face tvilh hands.) 

Harold (triumphantly). Are you answered, sir? 

Hugh, (fiercely). No, sir— not yet! The answer /will demand, you 
alone can give— if your prudence will permit. 

Enter, c. d., Mrs. B., Frank, Austin, Kate, Lulu, Homer, and Abner. 
Harold makes an aggressive move, but smilingly restrains himself. 

Const. Hugii ! For my sake ! (aside to Harold) Take me aw:iy ! 

HuoH. (apart, furiously). Siie whispers to him ! He has triumphed ! 
(seeing LuLii) Ha! Lulu. She at least is true, (advances quickly, and 
takinn Lulu's hand, leads her forward) Miss Burwell, it gives me pe- 
culiar pleasure to present to ycii Miss Lulu Osborne, my betrothed wife ! 
(Ihe two ladies curtsey.) 

Const, (faintly). AH is over ! (tottering.) 

Lulu. She is fainting! (Austin darts if orward and sustains her.) 

Harold (to Hucii, icith lialed breath). Coward! 

Hugh (furiously, striking Harold in the fac^. with his glove). Liar! 

Harold (busting into an aggressive rage). A blow ! The dog shall 
(\\el (darti72g forward, at the same time thrusting his hand into his 
breast pocket, as if to draw. Mrs. B., Kate, and^ Lulu shriek.) 

Const, (starts jforward, seizing Harold's hand). Your oath ! Re- 
member ! 

Animated Tableau. 

QUICK CURTAIN. 



WON BACK. 27 



ACT III. 

SCENE. — Sitting-room in a New York hotel — 1861. At rise of curtain 
viilitarij music, atith drums. Shouts of a multitude. 

Enter, c, Austin, in travelling costume, glancing over "E.rtra.'" 

Austin. By Jove! The attack on Sumter has aroused the entire 
North. Then- wrath is certainly urand, and 1 admire it. Since we 7nust 
light, I am glad we are to have a foeman worthy of our steel. 

Enter, l. 1 E., Kate. 

K\TK {with extended hands). ^Ye\come back to America ! I wish I 
could say to the United States. 

Austin. I don't wish anything of the kind. The two sections have 
been shaking tists at each other for over tifty years; lighting is now in 
order. 

K.viK. Oh, well, of course there will be some lighting, but not much. 

Austin {graneti/). Well, I think there irifl be. People as brave as 
ours, both North and South, haven't rolled up their cuffs merely for tlie 
excitement of turning them down again. My own impression is, that 
the war will be very "desperate, and the lighting such as the world will 
sicken to hear of. 

Kate. Antl that is why you hastened l)ack from Europe ? 

Austin. Certainly. 1 should despise myself if I shirked my duty now, 
so have returned expressly to cast my lot with the South, and stand or 
fall in her defence. 

K.-V'E {impulsivetij ofering her hand). You noble fellow ! You may 
kiss me for that speech ! 

Austin. With all my heart, {kisses her.) 

Enter, c, quickly, Frank. He starts back, surprised. 

Frank. Excuse me; I am very near-sighted, you know, {recognizing 
him) What ! my old-time rival and antagonist, {shafcing hands heartihj) 
I am glad to see you. Kiss her again. Y"ou have my consent. 

Katk (l((u.ghingly recedes). I'ou are very liberal in giving away what 
is not your own. 

FitANK. Certainly. And I particularly commend to you, Brookes, the 
adage which bids us never look a gift horse in the mouth. 

KArK {affecting to he offendeil). Gift horse ! Me ! 1 should like to 
see any one attempt to look into mii mouth. 

- Frank. Got over all my nonsense, Brookes, after that affair of ours a 
year ago; and I'm too much occupied in national affairs now to think of 
anything else. By the way, 1 suppose you are back to do your duty ? 1 
won't ask on which side. 

Austin. Oh, you needn't hesitate. This is a sectional war. 1 shall 
light, if light I must, under the banner of my mother State, grand old 
Virginia. 

Frank. And /under the banner of Right and Justice, the banner ot 
the Union. , , , , , , 

Austin. We of the South, descendants of those grand old rebels w'ho 
established the principle thnt the consent of the governed is necessary 
to the government, believe that both right and justice are on our side. 



28 WON BACK. 

FitANK. That's a delusion we will have to cure you of. 'We've got 
five men to three, and we mean business. 

' Austin. We would be degenerate sons of noble sires, did we stop to 
count odds where liberty is involved. We can but oiipose your con- 
victions with our own, and give to your great power, should God bless 
you witii success, the protest of our dead bodies. 

Filter, c. D., qniddij, Mrs. B. Shakes hands cordially vith Austin. 

Mrs. B. I heard you were here, and came down e.xpressly to see you, 
witiiout completing my toilet, {shakes hands also with Frank.) 

Kate. 7y/r</;'.v a compliment for you. Ha, ha, ha! 

Mrs. B. But you mustn't look at me critically. I am looking like a- 
fright, I know, but tlie pi-evailing excitement has made me ill. 

Austin. Not with apprehension, I hope ? 

Mr.s. B. iiiroHdh/). No indeed. I know the valor of the South too 
well to insult it with one doubt of the result. Of course we shall con- 
quer. 

Frank. Well, war, like law, is mighty uncertain, Mrs. Barbour; so 
much depends, you know, on the "sinews." 

Katk. Only think, our frieiul here was the first man in his regiment 
to volunteer against us. 

Frank. No, you pay me too much honor. Hugh Ransome was first, 
I second. He is colonel of the regiment, I only a captain. 

Austin {shaL-iiuj his hand). I honor your spirit. Captain. When do 
you start South ? 

Frank. This afternoon. 

Austin. So do I. 

Frank (.s7///// to Aus^tin). Maybe we'll have a chance to have that 
interrupted fight of ours out, without the interruption of the police. 
{glances at Kate.) 

Austin {lawjhinghj). I luipe not. 

Frank. Of course you go South, Mrs. Barbour? 

Mrs. B. Of course. I but delayed to dispose of mv property in Wash- 
ington and this city. That is all settled, and we start to-morrow. 

Kate. Yes. Harold King tells us that all the Soutliern ports are to 
be blockaded, and I wouldn't for the woild be shut out from the South. 

Austin {surprised). Is Harold King In New York ? 

Kate. Yes, in this hotel. So is Constance Burwell, who only recently 
returned from Baltimore, and, {icith concealed sneer) of course, Mr. 
Hugh Ransome. 

Austin. Are they married ? 

Kate. Who ? 

Austin. Ransome and Miss Burwell. 

Kate. Of course not; but he hangs around her from morning till 
night, with as much assiduity as when he was her acknowledged suitor. 
I wonder Constance permits it; and I am sure if /was Lulu Ransome, 
/wouldn't stand such carryings on. 

Frank. Well, she doesn't, it seems, for, if common reports are to 
be believed, Harold King's attentions fully compensate for her husbands 
neglect. 

Kate {with hejti). Well, common reports are not to be believed, and 
you ought to know it, Fi'ank Powers. Lulu Ransome is a good woman 
and a true wife, and I don't care who says to tiie contrary. 

Mrs. B. {calmh/). Well, tiiere is no occasion to lose your temper, 



WON BACK. 29 

dear. Lulu Ransome may be a very good wom:in, but she is certainly 
indiscreet in admitlino; Harold King to so close an intimacy with her. 

Austin. I thought King and Ransome were bitter foes. 

FijANK. Oh, that'was a year ago. Tliey are all right now, though ill- 
natured people, and there are lots of those in this world, you know, will 
persist in saying that if Ransome does not look out, he will lose through 
his conliden'ce, all the eclat which in his afl'air with King he gained 
througli his i)luck. 

AiisriN. In plainer words, that is ecpiivalent to saying that Harold King 
failing to conquer the husband, will corrupt the wife ? 
' Frank (drill/). Well, that's about the sliape of it. 

Austin {/hoiaj/i/fii/L/). 1 am sorry to hear it. But surely the scoundrel 
has not touched Miss Burwell's name? 

Mks. B. Oh no! Far from it. Constance Burwell is the idol of 
society, and could marry the i)ick of the land, if she desired to wed, but 
she has refused every otier, and declares that she will never marry. 

Austin. That is bad for Harold King, who loved her desperately 
once. 

Kate. And does yet, if the truth could be known. The feeling 
certainly isn't reciprocated; she shuns him as though she hated him. 
Iroll of drums and sIiOMtf heard.) 

Enter, r. and l., separately, Homer and Abner, much excited. 

HiiMKR and Abner {loqetker). Such news! [each has an "Extra.) 

O.MNES. What is it ? What is it ? 

Abnkr {sha.kin;/ his paper triamphanthj). President Lincoln has 
called for 75,000 inen to defend the capital ! 

Frank. Hurrah ! Every true man must now stand by the flag ! 

Homer. Which flag ? 

Frank. The true flag — the old flag, of course. 

Abner. Yes, sir! Down with each new flag; none but the true flag, 
the red, white, and blue flag ! That's the talk. Whoop ! 

Homer. That's exactly what it will all amount to— talk ! 

Abner. I as^ree with you: that is all it will amount to. There is no 
'fight in the South; only bluster, sir. By jingo, the Seventh regiment 
win make an excursion from New York to New Orleans in thirty days. 

Homer {excited!//). Let 'em try it ! Let 'em try it ! And by hookey, 
sir, the peaceful waters of the placid Potomac will run red with the blood 
of the invaders. 

Abner. Will it ? Raise a finger, but one little finger, sir, against the 
authority of the nation, and I tell i/on, the wheels of the chariot of war 
shall be "so deeply graven in the soil of the South that centuries will not 
efface it 1 On to Richmond! 

Homer. I'll bet a hundred dollars t/ohHI never get to Richmond, un- 
less as a prisoner of war ! 

Abner. Done! I take that bet ! Put up! Fnt u\)\ {feel i?u/ for his 
pock el -book.) 

Frank {to Homer). I'll bet you a hundred /get there before you do, 
sir ! 

Homer. I take it ! Put up ! Put up ! {each feels far poch't-hook .) 

Austin {to Abner). I'll bet one hundred to fifty that the Southern 
army enters Washington before voir set foot in Richmond ! 

AiBNER and Frank {together). Taken ! Put up! Put up! {all pro- 
duce m.nneii simultaneousli/.) 

Austin {shaking a roll of bank-notes). Who am I betting with ? 



30 



WON BACK. 



Abner. Darned if I know. Anybody ! Everybody ! Put up ! 

Frank. What are you betting on? 

Homer. Anything"! Everyliiing ! Put up ! Put up ! Put up ! 

Abnkr. Shut up ! Shut up, and put up! 

Mrs. B. {lauijhingUj, exlemUny her luvul). Gentlemen, I'll hold the 
stakes. 

O.MNE.S. Agreed I Agreed! {thrvstinr/ money iitto her hands.) 

Kate {extending her hand). Gentlemen, and I'll spend the stakes ! 

Omnes. Agreed ! Agreed ! 

Mrs. B. What ai-e the wagers ? 

Abner {excitrd). Me bets me I won't see Richmond before I get 
there -no, no -I mean I won't get to Richmond before I see it ! 

Homer (excUejl). No, sir; yotc bet me that the Southern army will 
never enter Richmond but as prisoners of war! 

Abner. I didn't bet anything of the kind. 

HoMKR. I'll leave it to Mr. Brookes. 

Austin. As 1 understand it 

Abner. No, sir; nothing of the kind. I deny it. What's the bet, 
Powers ? You heard it. 

Frank. Why, you bet, or rather he did, that 

Omnes {vm- tonsil/). Not at all! But I say! Nonsense, sir! It's a 
back out ! {report of cannon and loial cheers — drums.) 

Abner. More news! On to Richmond ! (se?2e.s all the stakes from 
Mrs. B.'s hajtds 'j'/id runs out r. u. e.) 

Omnes. Vr-^r, you've got my money ! [Evenvt Omnes, excitedly, c. 
[Kvit Mrs. B. a/id Kate, l. 1 e., laiighinff. 

Enter, r. 1 e., HaroEd andlaVLV, arm in arm. 

Hatcold (tenderly). You would cease to mock at my sympathies did 
you know the wrongs and injustice I have witnessed "here, in the last 
few 'Jays. 

Lulu. What have j^ou seen, Harold ? 

Harold. I have seen a woman, young, lovely, wealthy, whom all the 
world believed to be without one regret^ turn aside that she might burst 
into heart-broken tears unobserved. 

Lulu. Indeed! How observant j'ou'are. Pray, who was the lady? 

Harold. Ah, Lulu, you are not yet of that age when a woman can 
hide the grief which in her heart she suffers. I can read your face as 
I read an open book ! 

Lulu. Ha, ha, ha ! You alarm me. Come, tell me, what do \ou 
read in my face ? 

Harold. A desire to be loved— the need of your husband's confi- 
dence — the knowledge of his treachery ! 

Lulu {seizing his wrist, looking aroinuh. Sh! Hush, I beseech you. 

Harold {loirering his tone). You know it is true, yet you foolishly 
cherish the cause of all your wrongs, all your misery. 

Lulu {appealingly). You promised me never again to refer to this 
subject. 

Harold. And would keep my promise but that I see you daily wast- 
ing your life away in idle repinings. Why l)e bound by a chaiii which 
your husband breaks? You liave but to speak one word to command 
the love, the devotion which your lieauty and your cliarms deserve ! 

Lulu. For shame! He whom you thus ass"ail is your friend, and 1 
his wife ! 



WON BACK. 



31 



Harold. And have I 'not respected his rights as a friend till he him- 
self neglected you as a wife ? For one year 1 have loved you ! 

Lulu. Hush, for pity's sake ! 

Harold. Pity for him, or yourself? Certainly he has not shown pity 
to you. He married you from pique and to spite another, else would he 
not now neglect you for that other. 

Lulu (firm/)/). Prove to me that my husband has forgotten the duty, 
the respect he owes me, and you will ttnd that I too will learn to forget. 

Harold. The proof is already in your heart. You feel Hugh Ran- 
some's neglect, and you know the cause of liis inditlerence. 

'Lvhv {looking fearf idly around). Shi Some one is conung! Re- 
lease me, I beg you ! 

Harold. Not till you consent to see me agam ! 

Lulu. I will— I will ! I promise. 

Harold. Where? 

Lulu. Here, as soon as Hugh has gone— in half an hour ! 

{RiDis out, c. D. 

Harold. Ha, ha, ha! The game is mine at last ! 1 despise the un- 
manly warfare of striking at a husband through the vanity of his wife, 
but no other course is left me. I but use the weapons they themselves 
have levelled against my peace— cunning and deceit, {lookiwj ojf) Ah, 
'tis they ! How happy in each other's society ! How forgetful of the 
misery they have imposed upon me! But not for long. I will show 
her that I too can be loved by lier own rival, one younger and fairer 
than herself. I will teach Inm the bitterness which rankles in the heart 
deceived. They come ! [E:cU, l. d. 

Enter, R. D., Hugh a/K? Constance, the former in uniform. 

Const. Hush! No more of that. We stand on opposite shores— I 
on one side, with only memory as my aid— you on the other side, with 
the sacred support of your wife. 

HuGiL A wife who does not love me. 

Const. You mistake. Trust a woman's opinion of a woman for that. 
Your wife loves you, but is jealous of you. 

Hugh {incredi(lons). Jesdonsl Of whom, pray? 

CoN.ST. Of me. Longer to blind your eyes is to risk your honor and 
her own. 

UvGii {star/led). My honor! You alarm ine. lour words mean 
something. Give me the clue. ^. , , ., 

Const. You are blind. Look into your own heart. Fnid there tlie 
clue you seek. Have you not driven her from your side by the open 
avowal that you wedded her through pique, but loved another? 

HuGn. Wliat else could I do ? I but spoke the truth. 

Const. Oh, vain and foolish man ! to hearken only to the cries of 
pride, and call them the voice of Truth ! Make haste to repair your 
foiiy_to save your wife, ere it be too late. 

Hugh. Again that warning! You are concealing something from 
me Ha ! it Hashes upon me." Harold King ! His professions of friend- 
ship—his attentions to my wife. Coward ! I will write upon his heart, 
as with a pen of tire, the word Repent ! 

Const, {firmh/). Stay! First feel repentance in your own heart, ere 
you write it in his. You must not seek a quarrel with Harold King. 

Hugh. What would you have me do ? Stand quietly by and submit 
supinely to a doubt ? Jinpossble ! 

Const. I would have you save your wife, not sacnhce her. 



32 WON BACK. 

Hugh. Wliat! Let them escape my revenge? Never! I will at 
once confront them. 

C(jNST. I'or Heaven's sake pause. You mistake not only the cause of 
your resentment, but its object also. Harold King is neither a villain 
nor a coward. 

Hugh. Yet the stain of my blow has never left his manhood. 

Const. Because his resentment was withheld then, as now, by a 
motive. 

Hugh. What motive but fear could thus possess him ? 

Const. An oath ! One year ago, at my entreaty, he swore never to 
lift his hand against your life. 

Hugh. At your entreaty ! And with what purpose ? 

Const. To rescue your life, which was threatened. 

Hugh. My God ! And you mean to say, I owe my protection from 
Harold King's wrath to a woman's fears ? 

Const. No ; to a woman's love ! You have forced the confession from 
me. Oh, don't force me to regret the afiection which moved me then. 

Hugh {furioiislii). I will not consent to an immunity from danger 
which degrades manhood. I demand that you at once release Harold 
King from his oath. 

Const. To what end ? My fears, my very tears, all cry "no" to sucli 
a proposition. 

Hugh. Then by Heaven I will seek him out and brand him as a cow- 
ard who hides his life behind a woman's pride ! [Rushef: out, c. 

Const. I have undone all ! Oh, God of mercy ! what is to be done ? 
He will seek out Harold King, will renew the quarrel of the past, and 
once more i)ut his life in jeopardy. I must, if possible, warn Harold 
King. [Exif, L. D. {Alarm bells, followed by long roll of drums and 
cheers.') 

Enter, o. D., quickly and excitedly, Mrs. B. and Kate. 

Kate. Have you seen them, mamma? 

Mrs. B. Seen whom ? 

Kate. The soldiers. 

Mrs. B. {ominously). On the path to death ! {shouts heard off.) 

Homer rushes in c. d., with black eye, clothes torn and muddy. 

Kate and Mrs. B. {tor/ether). What is the matter ? 

Homer. The matter is, I came near being murdered by a mob just 
now ! I told some soldiers out there that the North had no constitu- 
tional rigiit to coerce the South, and, darn me, if they didn't try to hani;; 
me to a lamp-post! I had no idea I could run half so fast. Is my coat 
torn ? {turns and shows coat split up back.) 

Abner runs in, c. d., with gun, sahre-bayonet, havelock, bowie-kiiifc. 
and pistol. 

Arner {nnth military salute). I am here; now let the seceshers bo- 
ware ! 

Homer. And here you will stay. There is no tight in you ! 

Abner. Perhaps tliere is in you. If so, the time for deeds has conic 
Come on! {chnrgimj upon Homer idth lerclled bayonet.) 

Homer {retreating, shielding himself hnJiinil fimitvre, and, at Lisl 
Mrs. B.). Keep off! Keep away ! (Mr.s. B. and Kate shriek affngliled. ) 

Abnrr. Come out from behind those breast works. Come out and be 
bayoneted, like a man ! {hacks Homkr out h. 1 e. ami rc/urns.) 



WON BACK. 33 

Mks. B. {severely). Mr. Decker, remember where you are, sir. This 
is iieitlier the lime nor the place for private resentments. 

Abner {with vnlitavy salute). For youi^ salve, Mrs Barbour, I spare 
Ills unworthy life ! 

K \\'K [Ijijcjhtii'jbi). True courage is always magnanimous. 

M:is. B. I am surprised at you, Mr. Decker. 

Abner. It is the atmospliere, Adelgitha. Instead of ozone, it is sur- 
cliarged with sulpliur and gunpowder. 

Katk. Well, please don't ignite them here, {he salutes and goes itp.) 

Mrs. B. Come, Kate, we have all our packing to do yet. 

Kate. All rigiit, mamma. [They exit, l. 1 e. 

{Shouts and drums. Music, "Rally 'round the Flag.") 

Abner {at window). Hurray ! On to Richmond ! 

Enter, R, 1 E., CofJSTANCE. 

Const, {noticing his presence). Are you going to the war, Mr. Decker ? 
(Abnkr advances, leaving gun at window. Homer sneaks in and se- 
cures gun.) 

Arnkr. Ahem ! Well, not immediately. That is to say, not till I 
receive my commission as brigadier -general. 

Const. Wiiy your appearance in arms, then ? 

Abnek. Ahem ! I thought my heroic example at tliis crisis would 
have an Inspiring effect, and help to swell the war-cry of the people, 
"On to Richmond ! " 

Homer {with bayonet at charge). Then on with you. Move ! Quick ! 
{prodding him.) 

Abner. Stop I Don't — you'll hurt me ! The durned thing is sharp. 
Oh ! oh I {makes ruiinunj leitp out, of wmdnic. Loud crash.) 

Homer {triumphantly). Ahem ! First triumph of the Southern arms. 

[Exit, u 1 e. 

Enter, c. d., quickly, Harold, meeting Constance. 

Qovisv. {with start of surprise). Ha! Have you seen him? Have 
you met Hugh Ransome within the last hour? 

Harot.d. No. Why the question ? 

Const. Because I 

Harold {al'ier pausf^). Because in spite of all, my ruin, his marriage, 
you still would subordinate my pride to Ins i)eace. You bound me with 
an oath not to seek a manly revenge, and so forced me to find in ciiiming 
a tamer ally. That have I done. Woe to liim who lirst kindled in my 
soul that torch of passion. It shall burn downward till it scorch and 
blacken not only m// nature, but his honor! 

Const. Heaven have mercy! His fe:irs were prophetic then. Har- 
old King, let me not learn that we have met in vain — that the respect 
I once entertained for you is a reproach to memory. 

Harold. What mean you ? 

Const. I mean that I sliould despise you could I believe you would 
ruin a woman's life, wreck her home, to gain revenge upon the man 
you iiate. 

Harold {furionslii). He ha-s tram!)led upon my happiness, and by 
Heaven I will tear down the fabric of his honor, even though I perish 
beneath its ruins ! 

CoN.sT. {with a gesture and exclamation of horror). Oh, Heaven! 
There is yet time (cro'^si.no rapidly and resolutely.) 

Harold. What has shocked you ? Where would you go ? 



34 WON BACK. 

CoxXST. To do a woman's duty. To seek her and save her. To beg 
of Heaven, that since you trace to me the miseries of your life, you may 
also owe to me your rescue from crime. God be with ine now ! 

• {E.cit, L. 1 K., excitedhi. 

H.^ROLD. Surely she would not warn him. Bah! What if she did ? 
I have already won tlie heart of his wife, and at a word from me she 
will cast him off. By Heaven, I will delay no longer! I will speak the 
word, and bear her South with me this afternoon ! 

Enter, c. d., quickly, Lulu, agitatedly. 

Lulu. He has not returned. Something has happened. 

Hakold {his manner duvigiwj to le)iderness). What! weeping un- 
bidden tears ! 

Lulu. He has been for hours promenading with herl 

Hauold. Of course he has. Nothing new about that. And yet you 
dare not resent his neglect. 

Lulu. You are riglit, Harold. Hitherto I have been afraid to speak 
even of my doubt; but I set that feeling now aside. He shall find that 
I can nirtict wounds, as W(41 as receive tiiem ! 

Hakold. And you will conquer. 'Tis the last note of fear that wakes 
the first note of deliance. {slipping arm about her ivaist) I will share 
your fate, be that what it may ! 

Lulu. Release me, pray. Think where we are! Think of the con- 
demnation wliich would follow detection ! 

Harold. Perliaps. If your husband's love brought you peace, or had 
by its own fidelity forbidden you to stray. But he has signed your re- 
lease in his confessed love for Constance Burwell. Your presence is a 
restraint upon their joy. {siie releases herself from him.) 

Lulu {resent/ idly). Ali_, if I felt that, I would at once rid them of all 
restraint ! 

Harold. It is the truth. The hours of absence, which you think he 
passes at his club, are spent in loving converse with her.' At this very 
moment, be assured, his looks of aflection are fixed upon her face, {she 
carers her face in her hands irt/h an exclamation of aversion) Have 
you the courage to resent this outrage upon your rights ? 

Lulu {looks quickly and proudly up). I have. Put me to any test. 
I care nothing now for consequences ! 

Harold. Bravely spoken ! Then let him see— make him feel that the 
l^rocious jewel of your love, which he so lightly discards, is fully and 
richly jtrized by another ! Bestow it upon me, dearest, that I may wear 
it uiion my heart! Let me fill his abandoned place hy pour side, since 
youi-s is filled by Constance Burwell. 

Enter, c. D., qmcldy. Constance. 

Lulu {vvih outburst of feelinq). God help me if I err ! Take me 

{(\bnv.t to rush into his arms, Constance comes betiDP.en.) 

Const. (serereli/\. You mistake, sir. Constance Burwell is not by 
Huiih Ransome's side. She is here ! 

Harold. Eavesdropping, eh ? I did not expect that of you. 

Const. Say ratlier. I overheard, without intending, falsehoods which 
no aentleman would stooj) to utter. 

Harold. I spoke only what you know to be true — that your place is 
by Tlu'ih Ransome's side, not here. 

Const. My place is wiierever a woman's duty calls me. {to Lulu) Oh, 



WON BACK, 35 

Lulu, 1 admit thai, one hour ago I vm.s beside your husband; for then 
his blind self-delusion was puttini^ in jeopardy, not only the love of an 
lionest wife, but the honor of a conliding husband. Both of these I am 
in time to save ! 

Lulu {tcarfulbi). Why have you estranged my husband from me ? 
What honest duty called i/oii by his side ? 

Const. The duty which one good woman should feel, to stand by 
another. I knew your peace, his happiness, were in peril, and I resolved 
to save them both ! 

Harold {siieei-//i</li/). How ? By condemning her again to servitude ? 

Const. No. Dy restoring him to freedom. Oh Lulu I don't be misled 
into the fatal error of supposing that the fault of a husband can cancel 
the duty of a wife. Take heart, my child, and flntl refuge in a wife's 
sweet forgiveness. There, kneel, and i)ray, and hope, and weep ! Con- 
fide in me, I beseecli you. Oh, vit/ sister ! {icilf' an exdaination of re- 
lit'f hui.v t'iroios herself into her urms.) 

Lulu. I believe, and I will trust you ! 

CoN.^T. {fnuiUji embracing her). What say you now, Harold King ? Is 
not my place here ? 

Hugh ruslies in l. 1 E. Eater, c. d., Mrs. B. and Kate. 

Hugh (brea/Mess iihUi excitement,. To Harold). I have heard all ! 
You have taken unmanly refuge behind an oath. It may avail to pro- 
tect you from my wrath, but not from my Ixite, my scorn, my detesta- 
tion ! 

Lulu r^^rZ Const. Husb.md ! Hugh! {restraining him.) 

Haruld {t'nrions). You know that my hands are manacled, and yet 
seek me out to taunt and insult me. Dolt! Dog ! Cuckold ! {speaking 
nu//i crescendo in/ensitt/, the last lonrd is fairly hurled in his face.) 

Hugh {nu/h roar of rage). Villain ! {breaks from those who hnhl him.) 

hvLV {throicing herself in front of him). Husband! I am innocent. 
I swear it ! 

CoN.sT. Harold King, unsay that word ! 

Harold. I'll unsay nothing till you release me from the pledge which 
shields his life. 

Const. Then in the face of God and man I solemnly proclaim that 
you have lied— cruelly and wickedly lied I 

Harold {loilh a st'irt of rage, which he onlii partially represses). Not 
on you shall my resentment fall, but on him, your lover ! 

Hugh. Coward ! {shouts a7id military music, ]ip., till last cue.) 

Frank rushes in, l. 1 e., followed by Abnek, the former in uniform, 

Frank {sal/ding). We have orders to march, Colonel. The regiment 
is about to move. 

Hugh (to Constance). The hour has come. Farewell ! We may 
never meet again. But wherever I go, the prayers, the blessings of 
two re-united hearts shall forever follow you ! {to Lulu) Farewell, and 
may God bless you ! {embracing her.) 

Austin ru.<ihes in, n. 1 -e., followed by Homer. 

Austin. Harold, our friends await us, and Virginia calls. Are you 
ready? {embraces Katk and Mrs. B., shakes hand irith Constance.) 

H\R(>LD. Yes, with all my heart! Hugh Ransome, that battle-field 
shall bo a welcome one which brings you face to face with my revenge! 



36 WON BACK. 

Hugh. It shall be doubly welcome if it deals but justly with my own 
and my country's foe ! 

Hauold. We shall see. (fo Constanck) 1 have kept mi/ oath; remtjiii- 
bor your own ! Do you hear, Hugh Ransome ? She weds >ji<^ or noiK- 
Come, Austin. [Bus/n-s out it. 1 b., followed hi/ Airsii\ 

Hugh. Never you, if m}' sword can prevent! (to Constanoe) On((> 
more, farewell ! [R/is/ies out, l. 1 b., followed by FitANic. 

Const. Forever! {site falls into chiilr. The inarch becomes forte, 
mingled with shouts. The troops Jile past the U'indow.) 

Animated Tableau. 

MODERATE CURTAIN. 



ACT IV. 

SCENE. — A Confederate camp on the ontskirts of Winchester, Va., in 
1864. Music, "Maryland, My Maryland." Snow is falling. 

Enter, k. 1 e., Austin Brookes^ in uniform of a Confederate major, 
driving before him Homer, veri/ ragged and wretched, in a barrel, 
inscribed "Coward," /«n;«»r/ arm-holes, through which his arms 
project. 

Austin {severely). Here, move on, you infernal coward ! 

Homer {saluting). All right, Major. I say. Major, how much longer 
am 1 to wear this armor ? 

Austin. One week more, if you are not killed in the meantime. 

HoyiEii {despondently). Oh Lord! {u-ith sudden energy) Damn the 
war, I say ! 

Austin. What did you enlist for, if you didn't like it? 

Homer. But I didn't enlist, Major; I was conscripted. I told them I 
was a Quaker and a British subject, but they u-ould have me as a war- 
rior; and here I am. 

Au.sTiN {smding). You liked it well enough in '61, I remember. 

Homer. Ah, yes. That was before the real lighting commenced. 

Austin (sternly). Well, cowards are of no use on either side, and 
should our alert enemy again attack us, as he has twice done in the past 
month, General King's orders are, that you be sent to the front as a 
breastwork for braver men. [Mxit, k. I e. 

Homer {looking stenlthilii around, in bated breath). Damn General 
King ! {louder) Not individually, but on general principles, {goes up 
cautiously.) 

Enter, l, 1 K., Abner, barefooted, irearing beard, ragged uniform, 
very old slouch hat, very bright musket. 

Abn'er {lej-elling gun). Here, here! Where are you sneaking off to, 
you (hirned skunk ? 

Homer {hastening forward). I d-don't know, Sergeant. 



WON BACK. 37 

Abxer. Of course you don't. Wliat does a cuss like 3'ou know, any- 
how ? I'll l)et you don't even know wliat you're lii;-litln,ii,- about. 

Homer. You'll win that bet, Sergeant. "Besides, as a matter of fact, 
I ain't fighting. I'm a Quaker. 

Aknkr. a non-combatant, eh ? So much the worse for ?/o». A man 
wlio won't light in such a cause as ours, is no soldier, and don't deserve 
to wear the uniform of one. 

Homer {concUuilortj). Well, but I'm not in uniform, Sergeant.' 

Abner. Of course you're not. Can't I see ? I wonder tliey didn't 
dress you in petticoats. That's the sort of uniform for you. (Jiercely) 
What are you good for, anyhow ? 

Homer {meeJdi/). For breastworks, General King says. 
• Abxer {scar »f ally). Breastworks ? What soldier would want to be 
protected by such an or" nary cuss as yont {levelling muskel) I've a 
great mind to unload my musket right into your carcase. 

Homer (Jullimj on k)iee^, dis((ppears in barrel and reappears again). 
P-p-please don't f-tire. Sergeant, for the sake of my f-family. 

Ab.ver. Family ! You don't really mean that any woman would tie 
herself to a nondescript like you ? Are you married ? 

Homer. N-not exactly, but — — 

Ab.\ei{ {fiercehj). Then what business have you witli a faunly ? 

Homer yalarmed). I haven't a family yet. Sergeant, but it's not my 
fault; indeed it's not. I was jilted by a rich widow. 

Abn'kr. So was I jilted, and by a rich widow too. But is that a thing 
to cry about ? What does a widow amoimt to in war times ? The woods 
are full of 'em ! {nupuruigbj) So you were jilted by a widow, eh, you 
infin-nal jelly-lish ! What's her name ? 

Homer. Adelgitha Barbour. 

Abner {lels his miiskel slip doitm on his fool) Vanilla beans! Mi/ 
widow ! Who are you, anyway '? ( putting up /lis slouch hat and scrii- 
tiiiiziug his face) Homer Cooke! 

Homer {sadly shal.-iug his head). The darned fool ! That's my name. 

Abner. Is it possible you don't recognize me ? I'm an old friend of 
yours. 

Homer ((w^/t outburst of delight). Why, it's Abner Decker, of Con- 
necticut ! 

Abner {slapping his hand over Homi;r's moulh, in a ivhispcr). Sh ! 
Would you ruin me? {aloud) Yes, sir, I am Abner Decker, of Arkansaw 
— the 27th Arkansaw, sir; the pride of old Jubal Early's army, and the 
terror of the Yankees. Damn 'em 1 I hate a Yankee more than a wet 
shirt ! I could e:it 'em alive, if I was very hungry ! {glancing aii.riousli/ 
around, aside) I've got to play Arkansaw tine, you know, or 'twould be 
all up with me. 

Homer {lugubriously). I viish /had a chance to do it. 

Abner. And they've got you labelled "Coward." That gets me. 
Durn my old hat, but I thought you were one of that kind of tire-eaters 
who could never get enough of lighting. 

Homer {smiling). That was your mistake. But I remember that you 
were on the Northern side, one of the On-to-Richmond warriors. 

Abner {alarmed). Sh ! Don't talk so darned loud. I was — once. 

Homicr. How did you get South, then ? 
Abner. Followed the widow. 
Homer. So did I. 

Abnicr. Till she wrote me out to Memphis, where I had got, a darned 
cold-blooded kind of a letter, that the troubles of her country were so 
near to her heart that she could take no tiiought of mere personal pleas- 



38 WON BACK, 

ures, and that {with a sneer) of course my duties iu the army demanded 
all my time. 

HoMKK. Almost the same as what she wrote to me. But how did you 
get into the army ? 

Abxek. By a mistake — of mine. To soothe my blijrhted affections, 
I took to dealing in contraband cotton on a "crooked" permit from a 
Federal general. I was making money hand over list, wiieu one day I 
was gobbled up by Forrest. 

Homer. As an enemy? 

Abner. No, sir! I pretended I was a "sympathizer," and played it 
so well that they believed it. They persuaded me to enlist, and I was 
fool enough to do so, thinking I could easily skip away afterwards. 
{drilji) That was my mistake. 

Homf:r {in whisper). Then you've really been lighting against your 
own side ? 

Abner. Sh ! Not much. I've blustered and talked tight as much — 
well, (smiling) as much as you used to talk before the wah; but (iu a 
■whisper) Fve always managed to get on detailed service, or in liospital, 
whenever I "nosed" a light in the air. 

Homer. .Still, you can't play that all the time, you know. How do 
you propose to escapa ? • Desert ? 

Abser (afft'cfi /Iff imlif/nfitioii). Desert! Me! No, sir ! (/ort/b/».7./Wr- 
iiveii/ around) I may be taken prisoner, (winkiwj) but durn me if FU 
ever desert ! 

Homer {winking in turn). I understand, (whispering) Suppose we 
de — I mean, get captured together ? 

Abner. That suits me. It's risky work though. It's death if we are 
caught ! 

Homer (gulping). And it's death if we remain — death i)y starvation 
or cold ; so what's the odds, so long as we are i)erfectly hai)py ? 

Abner (looki)ig qutckl// nmnnd). Sh! (londl//) Here! Move! Move 
on, you dog-goned coward ! Move on, or I'll make a hole in you ! 

Enter, l. 1 e., Austin. 

Austin. What is the matter, Sergeant ? 

Abner (saluting). Nothing, Major, only I caught this fellow skulking 
around. 

Austin. That's right. Keep him moving around the camp, (turns 
awn I/.) 

Abner {winking at him). You hear that, you lop-eared scion of a 
Vuli)ine race ? Move on, quick, quicker, quicker ! (prodding him with, 
hai/onet.) 

Homer {■winking knowingly at him, affecting terror). Please don't. 
Oh! Oh! 

Austin. Don't kill him, Sergeant. 

Abner. Not entirely, Major; only a little bit. Now run, run, run I 

[Homer m^is out, \i. 1 e., followed by Abner with levelled musket. 

Austin. I hope Kate will be able to visit our camp to-day. It's aw- 
fully monotonous. I don't mind the lighting, but the waiting is awful. 

R--enler, r. 1 E., Abner. 
Where's your skulker ? 

Abner. I handed him over to the guard, sir; they'll run him around 
for the next liour. It's all tlie fun we have now. 

Austin. Yes, it is awfully dull. It won't continue so much longer. 



WON BACK. 39 

General King is not the man to idle away his time when an enemy is in 
sight. 

Abner {npprehensive.lji). Do you thinly he will attack, Major ? 

Austin {laughing^. You had better ask huii that question. 

Abxer. No, thank you. He's awfully quick-tempered, and might 
make me an uncivil reply — with his revolver. Peeled potatoes ! but 
he's a tighter ! 

Austin. The most desperate in the army. I iuive watched him all 
through the light of last mouth, when the Yanks under Colonel Ransom- 
surprised our canjp. AVhy, he tlew over the Held like a tiger. He mu.^t 
have cut down a dozen men or more before he reached the Yankee 
colonel. Do you remember the tight, Sergeant ? 

Abnek {riulping. N — ^Yes; but I wasn't in it. I had the bad luck, 
confound it, to be on hospital service at the time. 

Austin. 'Twas glorious ! You have heard much and seen little of 
hand to-hand lighting in this war. Sergeant. I .syi «Mt that daj'. The 
two lines were mixed in an inextricable confusion, when General King 
sighted Colonel Ransome, and made for him. i5oth exhausted their re- 
volvers, and gave and received wounds as they advanced. At last tliey 
met. and crossing swords, commenced hacking and stabbing at each 
otiier. Not a word was spoken on ether side, but you could see from 
their blazing eyes and clenched teeth tluxt they meant death ! The din 
was something awful; but the men within sight ceased tt^hting, and 
seemed to watch, spell-bouml, the struggle of tlie two leaders. Sud- 
denly Ransome's horse fell, carrying tiie Colonel down witii iiim, and in 
an instant tlie General's sword was at his heart. "Surrender ! " he cried. 
" I refuse ! " shouted the Yankee colonel. "Then die ! " exclaimed our 
general, when, as he drew back his arm to strike the fatal blow, a sjient 
shot from one of tlie enemy's riflemen struck him on the breast, and he 
fell senseless over tlie unconscious body of his brave adversary. 

Abneii. Wliat the deuce. Major, could have induced Colonel Ransome 
to break the pamle our general so generously gave him, and escape ? 

Austin {tciili u siiili). I don't know. Tliat is a mystery. 1 only know 
tliat he stained a very brilliant recoj'd by a very infamous treachery. 
(looks (iroKud) Here comes the General, (music.) 

Abner. Excuse me, Major; but I think he's in bad humor, and I'd 
rather not meet him. (aside, goinff) Things are getting altogether too 
"glorious" for me. I'll skip away to-night ! \Exit, k. 1 e. 

Enter, L. 1 E., Harold, in dingy uniform, his left arm m a sling. 
Austin salutes. 

Harold [r/iinng. papers). Adjutant, deliver these orders to Major 
Goldsborough. The intercourse between pickets must be stopped, and 
at once. 

Austin. All riglit, sir. How are your wounds progressing. General ? 

Harold. Favorably, sir. 'Twas a close shave though. Ransome's 
ball was well aimed, and I think would have readied my heart, had it 
not been turned aside by 

Au-STiN. Your pocket Testament, General ? 

Harold (grnnli/). No, sir, by a pack of cards. You were in Win- 
chester last night, sir, after the ladies, as usual, I suppose? 

Austin. I suppose you know, General, I am engaged to Miss Kate 
Barbour? 

Haeold. Miss Barbour, eh ? Oh yes, I remember; full of levity and 
laujrhter. 



40 WON BACK. 

Austin {with heat). But a true daughter of Virginia, for all that, Gen- 
eriil. I have known her to start at four o'clock in tlie nionuiig, in the 
depth of winter, on a lonely ride of twenty-seven miles, to give General 
Lomax warning of an intended surprise; and when I was wounded at 
Darkesville, she rode ten miles, at night, across the mountains, to fetch 
nie a surgeon. She had to cross a mountain stream, with the water 
knee deep; and when she got back to me her clotiies were frozen stiff 
to her waist, sd that she could scarcely stand. (Itnislinig (iit'iiy a tear) 
God bless her ! 

Hakoi.d {grnffiy). Go and deliver those orders, sir. 

Ai'STix (aside). He has no iieart for love, the superb brute! 
[Salutes and f.vit, k. 1 e. Harold slai/r/frs ami stfs <»i camp-stool. 

Hauold. Aye, Go(l bless her, and all the brave women of all the 
South. They have indeed lieen our sustaining angels But for them 
the unequal struggle would have ended long ago in disaster and defeat. 
But the joys of love are not for me. My uncompanioned life, my isolated 
heart, too plainly and sadly attest that ! If I could only sliake her 
from my thougiit ! But tiiat seems impossible. Am I never to escape 
the intluence ol tiiat passion ? I thought iny love only one of youth's 
broken toys, to be lightly cast aside, or as lightly reiilaced. Instead of 
that, it proves to be one of tiie needs of my life. And he escaped — Ae, 
the Ulan who tunu'd my noonday into night ! By Heaven, I would risk 
eternity for one more chance of meeting him. (music, agitato, pp.) 

Tie-niter, R. 1 k., quicldij, Austin. 

Austin (salt'tnig). General, Colonel Kansonie, who escaped a week 
ago, has been re-captured, within our lines. 

Ha HOLD ((/■//// avid e.i:clamatio)i of jot/, starting up). Good! Con- 
duct him here, at once, aiul issue orders to have him shot at daybreak. 
i''.rit Austin, r. 1 k.) Ha, ha, ha! The gods tight on my side after all ! 
Ha, ha, ha ! He hoped to induce her to evade her oath, and to marry 
him at the close of the war, if he escaped its perils. Well, he shall )iot 
escape, and site shall read in his ignominious death the constancy of my 
love, the tenacity of my hate, (falls back exhausted into seat.) 

Enter, r. 1 e., Hugh, in uniforvi, accompanied by Austin, who salutes 
and e.vils. Hugh is very pale from ipound in his chest. Harold 
rises, and the two stare Ji.vediy at each otiier. 

Harold. So we meet again ! 

Hugh. Had I the choice, it should be upon the battle-field with 
weapons. 

H,\.rold. Your weapons availed you little at our last meeting there. 
Colonel Ransome, one week ago you violated your parole, and escaped. 

Hugh (coldlt/). I did. 

Harold. Not content with that dishouor, you have dared to re-enter 
my camp as a spy. 

Hugh (slarting). Aspy ! (restraining himself) I spurn the accusation 
with contemi)t. It is false! 

Harold. Then what brought you within my picket lines ? 

Hugh. My sense of honor ! I voluntarily returned to deliver myself 
into your hands. 

IIai;old (livth expressinn of contempt). Umph! To what end? 

High. To keep my word to an enemy. To prove to him that I am 
neither a coward nor a liar ! 



WON BACK. 41 

HAI40LD. If neither of these, why did you break your word of honor 
as a soldier ? 

ilboii. To save the life of a comrade. My friend Captain Austin, also 
your prisoner, and badly wounded, was dying for want of pro[)er nour- 
ishment and care. He appealed to me to save his life, as he had once 
before saved mine. 1 made the eftbrt, and escaped. I swam the river 
with him, placed him safely in the keeping of our friends, and returned 
to accept the penalty of the act. 

Harold. The penalty is death, at sunrise ! 

Hu<in {conlhi). I know it, and am prepared. 

Harold. I am glad you have the courage to meet it as becomes a 
man. 

Hu(JH. And is it possible that you even entertained a doubt of my 
courage? I would not stain my own character, or the cause I hold dear, 
by one act of treach.ery. 

Harold. I am sorry .you are in this plight. I seek your life, Hugh 
Ransome, and would gladly sacritice my own to take it, but I desire not 
your death in this way. I am a soldier, not an executioner. 

Hugh. Spare your mercy; 'tis wasted upon me. 1 would scorn to 
accept even life at hands so base as yours ! 

Harold {c(ilmly). You knoio the impossibility of such a release, else 
you would not address me in language no prisoner should utter to his 
captor. You knon^ I cannot resent an insult from j-ou now, and your 
taunt is therefore cowardly. 

HnoH. It is not cowardly, since I pm'chase with my life the opportu- 
nity of branding you to your face as a villain ! No true man would 
deliberately seek to corrupt the wife even of an enemy whom he hated. 
Yet I his you did. 

Harold. No true man would subject an honest wife to the pity of the 
enemy whom he had wronged. Yt^t this //o« did. 

HuoH. You l>ut palter with words which mean nothing. 

Harold. 'Twas yom- defection which proved the challenge to my 
syini)athy. Yonr love for Constance Burwell — the one idol of all my 
hopes — induced your wife to <')irouri(r/e ray attentions 

Hli(Jii. Encourage them ! Harold King, you slander a dead woman ! 
You lie ! 

Harold. Lie ! {drawing his pistol) Your life shall atone for the insult. 
{levels at his hear I.) 

Hugh {foldinr/ his arms, calmly). Fire! 

}i\Rnhi) (lomeri)!// n-eapon). Bah! The word prisoner protects you. 
You shall not be dignified by a death at my hands. 

Enter, l. 1 e., Austin. 

A felon's doom for you ! To the guard house with him ! 

Hugh. Not a felon's death. Harold King, but a soldier's, and at the 
hands of my country's foe I Neitlier the doom itself, nor its means, have 
any terrors for me. "Whether in the battle's van, or on the scaflbld 
high, the fittest place for man to die is where he dies for man ! " 

[Exit HuGFi and Austin, l. 1 e. 

Harold. Ha, ha, ha ! He bears himself gallantly. So much the 
better. It reconciles my vengeance with my pride. 

Enter, r. 1 e., Abner. He salutes. 

Abner. Two ladies. General, from Winchester, to see you on personal 
business. 



42 WON BACK. 

Hakold. Ladies— to see me? All right; conduct them here, (hirns 
aivai/. Abnkr salutes find e.cils, k. 1 e.) No liiKi, no message from 
her! For all sull'erers by the war she has, in one shai)e or other, mani- 
fested her sympathy. It was //c/- wealth, and Iwr generous \)ity, which 
lirst gave form to that noble beneficence, the Sanitary Commission. 
Night and day, with untiring zeal and boundless charity, she has gone 
from town to town, from camp to camp, from hospital to hospital, en- 
courasiug the sick, ministering to the hurt, supporting the needy. 
Tliousands and thousands of wounded soldiers have experienced the 
far-reaching touch of her practical benevolence; and few of our South- 
ern soldiers confined in Northern prisons l)ut have had grateful cause 
to acknowledge and to bless the personal kindness and Christian bene- 
factions of Constance Burwell. All this and more has she done tor 
others ! For me, whose life she has thwarted, whose nature she has 
perverted, she has neither pity nor remembrance. My scouts report 
that she is now visiting the hospitals of the enemy's camp beyond there. 
She is almost within sight of the man whom she encouraged only to 
bligiit, }et is as silent as the doatli she has made me covet. But she 
simll speak ! Her lover's execution shall wring from her heart a cry as 
full of anguish as that which tills my own ! 

E)il.er, R. 1 E., Abner, folio ired by Mrs. Barbour and Kate. Both 
ladies are. neatlij dressed in old cloUies of fasJiions of many years 
ago, and both are very cheery in manner. They cross to Harold 
and shake hands cordially. 

Abxer {apart). And she has forgotten ! The heart that has truly 
loved never forgets. Oh, woman, woman 1 [Salutes and exit, r. 1 E. 

Mrs. B. Oh ! Did I hurt your wounded arm ? 

Harold (icincin;/). Not — much. 

Katr. What a narrow escape you had from death ! I never thought 
that Hugh Ransome could be .so vindictive. 

Harold. Oh, that is all right. I am sorry I have but one seat to 
offer you. 

Mits. B. We can remain only an instant. I am on business of the 
highest importance. General," I am pickling some cucumbers, and of 
course need salt; so 1 sent to the provost-marshal this morning for an 
order for eight ounces extra, and, would you believe me, General, Major 
Goldsborouirh refused me. 

Harold. Ha. ha, ha ! Did he ! Well, salt is very scarce, you know. 
We have even been forced to use it as currency. However, you shall 
have the order. Excuse me. {sits at camp-table, xcrites in book, tears 
oiif I 'at' and r/ires if.) 

Mrs. B. Thanks {-rhm he sits) I said i/nn would set the matter right, 
so I got one of the hospital stewards to drive us out Jiere in an ambu- 
lance. And. bv the way. General, who do you think we heard of yes- 
terday by the flasr of tnice from Shepherdstown ? Constance Burwell ? 

Harold {coldly). Indeed I 

Mrs. B. Yes. Slie's tliere sujierintending the establishment of a hos- 
pital for the woundi^d. They say she has sjient all her fortune in pro- 
curuig comforts for the i)risoners on both sides. 

Harold {cijniadh/). Is it despair or remorse which has impelled her 
to do that? ' 

Mrs. B. (nvnvnly). Neither; only good heartedness. She has neither 
home, husband, children, or lover, you know, upon whom to lavish the 



WON BACK. 43 

natural affections of a woman, and she devotes them therefore to the 
caii.'^e of charity. 

Harold {hit}erf//). And so wastes them. 

Kate {fthocked). Oil, General 1 How can j'ou saj^ that ? I thinly Con- 
stance Burwell's surrender of lier fortune, her place in Bociet}^ her 
abundant chances to marry, all to serve the victiuis and the nuirt^TS of 
war, perfectly noble, and I honor her ten thousand times more than I 
ever did before ! 

Mrs. B. Wliat do you think I heard of her. General ? That she took 
a solemn oath never to marry, and sacrificed the highest and dearest 
hopes of a woman's heart, in "order that her lover might marry a richer 
■woman, whom he loved better. 

Harold. Who was the lover ? 

Mrs. B. That is a mystery. 

Kate (scornfnllij). Well, a nice specimen of a man he must be, who 
could e.xact such an oath from a good woman ! Human nature is as 
much disgraced by his existence as it is beautilied and honored by hers. 
{innoceiitb/) Don't you think so. General ? 

Hs-ROVD {starts as if from /us musing, brusquelij). Bah! {turning 
airaf/.) 

Katk {innoceiitly). Is your wound paining j^ou, General? 

Harold {Ijrusque.bj). Yes. \^asid.e) The wound in my heart, {turns 
aiv.iy.) 

Mrs. B. {aside to Kate). He is in one of his black moods. Let us 
leave. 

Kate. You won"t object. General, will you, to our seeing Major 
Brookes, now we are here ? 

Harold (cc<//.s). Orderly! (Abxer appear<i) Conduct these ladies to 
Major Brookes' quarters. [Kcit, quickli/ into house. 

Abner {saluting). Ahem ! I am at your service, ladies. Oh, Adel- 
githa ! 

Mrs. B. {eyeing him). Surely! What! Are you Abner Decker? 

Abnkr. That's me ! Kinder sunburnt, ain"t I ? 

Kate {surprised). Mr. Decker in the Sontkern army ! 

Abxer. Kinder curious, ain't it? Made the fellows on the other side 
' turn blue when they heard it. 

Mrs. B. It hasn't made you gray, seemingly. 

Ab.ver. Ahem ! No. {aside) I wonder if that had a double meaning. 

Kate. You have changed sides, then, since I last saw you ? 

Austin. Ye-es — yes. Only fools are constant. 

Kate {uyJh quiet irony). Yet I have knovn many inconstant men who 
are not on that account deemed wise. 

Abxer {gnllantly, to Mrs. B.). Besides, I felt I could never be hapi>y 
until I breathed the same atmosphere with you. 

Mrs. B. {cur/.seying). Oh, thank you. Tliis is a field day for person;il 
compliments to me. 

Abner. Ahem 1 None but the fair deserve the brave ! 

Mrs. B. Apropos of braves. What became of poor Homer Cooke ? 

Kate. Met a hero's death in defence of the South, I suppose ? 

Abnkr. Not a bit of it. Homer Cooke is alive and kicking. At 
least he was kicking when I last saw him, half an hour ago. 

Kate. What! In camp ? 

Abner. No; in a barrel. 

Kate. Ha, ha, ha ! Not like Diogenes, I hope ? 

Abner. No. Something like pickled i)oi-k packed for exportation. 
But I am delayi4ig you, and the General alwaj's expects his orders to be 



44 WON BACK. 

carried out promptly, {placing himself) attention, battalion ! By the 
riglit flank, right face ! Forward ! March ! Left ! Left ! 

[Exit, marcliinij, r. 1 e. 

Rf.-enter Harold, from house. 

Harold. How the sound of her name affected me ! And Kate Barbour 
spoiv'e, I suppose, the voice of tiie world in condemning the pledge I)y 
which Constance hoped to preserve his life. M;/ refusalto accept death 
at t.lieir bidding is unmanly, but her trilling with the passion she awoke 
is nothing. Nothing? Where is tlie peace of mind which once I knew? 
Where my lost youth ? Who shall give them back to me ? 

Re-eiiler, k. 1 e., Ai5ner. 

Abner {snlnting). A l;idy, who has made her way into our lines, asks 
to see you, sir. 

Harold (/-((de///). No! I have had enough of their chatter for one 
day at least. 

Abner. This one seems very much in earnest, sir; says it's life or 
death. 

Harold. Perhaps she brings me information. Did she give her 
name ? 

Abner. No, sir. But one of the men, who knows her, says she's a 
nurse from the other side, and that she has always been kind to our 
boys when prisoners. 

Harold {inquirinrily). A nurse? 

Austin. Yes, sir; in the Sanitary Commission. 

Harold. And kind to our boys, eh? Well, bring her in; she shall 
be welcome for their sakes. {ext Abner) My brave boys ! How tlirougli 
all their rags shines the heroism of their blood and training ! Starving, 
dying, yet lighting to the last. {risi)ig and removing his hat) Comrades, 
your commander salutes you ! 

Enter qiiickhj, R. 1 e., Constance, in garb of a nurse. 

Be seated, madam, (pushing .stool toward her) I am glad of the oppor- ' 
tunity of thanking you in the name of our Southern soldiers, {she raises 
her veil) Great Heavens ! Constance Burwell ! 

Const, {sndii/). Yes, Constance Burwell. I thought 7ierer to see you 
again, but duty led me here. I feared you would fail to subdue that 
worst foe that can assail a man— himself, and I am here to assist you 
against yourself — to win you back from what is false and revengeful, 
to wliat is true and generous in your nature. 

Haroi-d. What do you mean ? Speak out; I am a soldier, and prefer 
l)lain talking. 

Const. This morning I received a note left for me by Hugh Ransome, 
telling me that he had violated his parole in the cause of friendship — 
that he started out intending to deliver himself up to you, and that he 
felt certain the penalty of death would be enforced against him. 

Hauoi,d {inten.V'lii angered). Ah, I understand. And you would plead 
for the forfeited life of this self-condemned traitor ! 

Const. No ; I would entreat you not to sully your record by sacrificing 
to an unworthy revenge this noble and heroic enemy. 

Harot.d. Not another word ! The time has passed when you could 
swerve me from the line of my duty. You implore in vain. His doom 
is settled. Nothing shall change my mind ! 



WON BACK. 45 

Const. This is not justice, but revenge! 

Harold. No; it is justice. By every law of honorable war, of human 
justice, his life is forfeit to his breach of faith ! 

Const. By every law of God, every instinct of hunnxnity, he merits 
praise rather than condemnation. 

Hauold. You say you love this man ? 

Co.vsT. Better, as you know, than peace, or comfort, or ease — than 
all, save honor ! 

Hakold. And you would save his life ? 

Const. At any cost consistent with Christian duty ! 

Hauold. There is but one way in which that may be done. His life 
is precious to //on ; so is your smile to mt^. Ransom his life with i/our 
smile. Be my wife ! 

Const. (a:/hns(). And yo/i demand this of me ! 

Harold (jinnly). Yes. Upon no other condition shall he be spared. 
I swear it ! 

Const, (shndderinr/, monientnril// covering her face with her /tandt, 
as if to shut out a hideous pro ■oecl.). And — are you willing thus to traf- 
fic in human liearts — to make of human life a thing of barter and sale ? 

HAK(i[,n. Yes. I am not to be friglitened by a name. No worse 
thdt tlian to inalve my love the plaything of your vanitj', my peace the 
mock of your pride. 

CoNsi'. {scornful///). And you would accept my hand knowing my 
ne-di't was liis ? 

Hakold. I would. I should not despair of ultimately winning your 
heart. Esteem e.xists even where love is dead; and esteem is the basis 
of conjugal peace. 

Const. Tiiis is your decision. Now listen to mine. I refuse. I will 
not sell my soul to your base revenge. I will not buy his life with my 
tears ! 

Harold. Then why came yon here to palter a\^ain with my pride — 
once more to cajole my heart? I iiave already wasted too much time. 
{going) I will at once issue orders for his death. 

CoiVsr. (grax/iing linn), ."^top I You already have my oath never to 
wed without your consent. That oath I will keep. Is not that enough ? 

Haijold. No, no ! At the sound of your voice, the love which I had 
forced back to its source, then burst through all restraints, and once 
more flooded my heart with its passion ! I will not surrender you 
again ! That love is the life of my being ! Then love for love— life for 
life! — the le.x talionis of the world. Yonr love, or Jiis life! 

Const. And should I— Oh, my God!— (/;6r</^:/('/ hdcic her fears) should 
I consent to be— your— wife, {twining and ret wining her fi)igers in the 
efurt to su/rpress her angutsh and her crie^) will you i)ledge me your 
honor {t<pe(ikuig the word with n tinge of conteniyit) to release Hugh 
Ransome at once, and send him home, subject to exchange. 

Harold (eagerl//). I will, at once. And as there is no longer any ex- 
change of prisoners, this release will entirely withdraw him from the 
svar and its dangers. ■ 

Const, {ffuntl//). Swear it. 

Harold. On my honor I swear it! 

Const, {aside). Mine the fault — upon my heart fall all the suffering. 

Harold {rmpnlie)itl/j). Well, do you consent, or refuse ! 

CoNSi'. {after pause, turns and gives him her hand, faint i7oice). I — 
I —consent. {lolJers.) 

lI\iioLi) (»v/// (ii-dor, atlemptDig to draw her to //<;/«). My devotion 
shall repay you ! 



46 WON BACK. 

Const, {snatching cuvay her hand, which he is about /o kiss, Ireniii- 
lons n-itk siip/iressi'd (uu/nish). Stand off, General King ! Our barter 
is not yet consuininatod. Until it is, permit me tlie freedom of my 
own tlioughts and my own luind. 

lixROLu {bo will r/). Certainly, (cniis) Orderly! (Abner appears) Bring 
the Yankee colonel iiere, and the ciiaplain of the nearest regiment. 

Abnkr. Yes, sir. {asiile) Looks like marriage. Thai's bad. 

[ExU, K. 1 E. 

Harold. It rests witli you whether or not to make known to Colonel 
Ransome the terms upon whicli he has been spared. 

Const. (Iiilterlii). The terms, you mean, upon which liis life has been 
})urchased. No, I shall not tell him. His noble nature would reject 
with indignation the proposition to make a woman's broken heart his 
stepping-stone to safety. 

Harold. I will have the parole made out at once. There need be no 
delay. {Exit, loilh shrwj, l. 1 e. 

Enter, \i. 1 e., Hugh. He rushes eagerbj, icith exended hands, to greet 

CONSTAN'CE. 

HuoH. Yon here ! Then you received my note ? 

Const, ifainfii/). And responded, you see, in i)erson. 

Hugh. I am sorry yo;'. came. My note should not liave been deliv- 
ered to you till to-morrow; all would then have been over. Now I can 
only sjjeak my last farewell to you, (with liittemess) by the pernussion 
of— my jailors ! 

Const, {nearly fainting). Hugh, j'ou are not to — that is to saj', under 
Heaven's mercy I have been the means of — of saving your life. 

Hugh. Saving my life ! 

Const. Yes, yes ! You are to be at once iiaroled, and sent home ! 

HuGTi. But I will not have it so. I refuse to accept my life as his gift. 

CoNsi'. {trying to smile). You are mistaken, Hugh. He does not give 
you life; he — he ( pauses irith stidden eniharrassvient.) 

Huon. He.W^.sitl — the price your tears, perhaps your peace ! I will 
7int be a party to such a crime. Better a soldier's death in the service 
of his country than an ii^noble. self reproachful life. 

Const. Oh, no. no ! My friend, you must not say that. What matters 
the price of this mercy, so long as it does not involve your honor! 

HiiGrr. And is there nothing dishonorable then in an act which, wliile 
it oi)ens for me the door from jirison cell, condemns to hoi)eless servi- 
tude the most devoted of friends ? 

Const. You misunderstand. You will be set free. 

Hugh. What is freedom but the worst of mockeries, if it bars me 
from the woman most sacred in my affections, most precious to my 
hopes — from you ! 

Const. Life has noble duties, grander opportunities for you than can 
be bo;mded by love for me. You owe your country something. 

Hugh. Life, honor— everything! Everything but the love I bear for 
you. and whicli is now so inwrought into my being that, like the heart 
it brightens and gladdens, 'tis the essence of life itself! I cannot, 
will not, separate from you. If my life is spared, its love for you must 
be left unshackled. I will not accept one, if it denies me the other. 
{drairs her toward him.) 

Const, {receding). Thnt canimt l)e. 

Hugh. Cannot be! What mean you ? I am a soldier; let me know 
the worst. And since my life is the issue of the question, let me de- 



WON BACK. 47 

cide for mj'self whether 'tis wortli the cost. Once before you pleaged 
your peace for my safety ; what is liie condition of this release ? 
Const. I— cannot— tell you ! 

Re-enter, l. 1. e., Harold, rcith paper. 

Hakold. But I can. I have spared your life upon the condition that 
she becomes my wife ! 

\ivGn {ivitk exdainafioti of horror). Ah! Your wife! Never! 1 
spurn tlie thought with horror and contempt ! I spurn you as a wretch 
beyond the reach of scorn, for having even thought of such a proijosi- 
tion. Coward ! I ilemand the death pronouned upon me; it is my right ! 

\i.\\iou\) {t'ltriouslii, /f> Cdnstanck). You hear him. He insists upon 
dying! By Heaven, he sluUl be instantly gratilied ! (r«//.s) Orderly ! 
(Abner appears) Find Major Brookes; tell him to detail a tiring i)arty, 
and report for orders. The prisoner is to be shot at once ! Quick 1 

Abnek. Yes, sir. (aside) All, death ! That is better. 

[Exif, /if 1st tit/, R. 1 K. 

Harold (to Hugh). You see, I am merciful, even to you. I do not 
permit you to be kept long in suspense. 

Hugh. I uiulerstand your nature, and read your heart too well to be 
in any doubt. I am ready. 

Const. (A> Harold). This murder mtist not be perpetrated. I beseech 
you, Harold King, blacken not your soul with this cruel crime, 

Harold. Not one word further! He has sealed his own doom. No 
earthly power can save him now. {/oti'/ roll, shoitts, cannon, and tnits- 
ki'trti. St.artittij) Ha! What is that tiring? 

Hu(JH. Do you not recognize it? 'Tis the voice of the men of the 
North. It means that life is not alone in yotir keeping — that death is 
seeking tjon in your own camp ! 

Austin and Abner 7-ush in, r. 1 e., excitedly. 

Austin. General, our pickets have been driven in, the rifle pits cap- 
tured, and the camp attacked! 

Harold. They must be driven back. Look to the prisoner. Rally, 
boys, rally ! and drive them Ixxck. {alarms.) [Rtis/tes out, ii. 1 e. 

Hugh {/ttovinf/). If I were but free now ! 

Austin {/evt^tlin;y revolrer). But you are not ! 

Co.vsT. I will answer for lum, sir. {to Hugh) Oh, my friend, why did 
you reject his mercy ? Why impose upon me the hideous memory \vhich 
his revenge now threatens ? 

Hu(iH. Because I have no desire to live and see you the wife of an- 
other. Because I would rather die tlian surrender again the dear hope 
of one day making you mine, {atantis.) 

Aust[n. We are outnumbered ! T must lend a hand, {to Ahner^i Or- 
derly, keep a sliarp eye on the prisoner here, if lie attemiits to e.-^caiie. 
kill him. Kate is on the heights; she shall see how I can fi-ht; how I 
can die, if needs be. " f g^.,;^^ k. i e. 

Alarms. Mrs. B. and Kate rusli in, l. 1 E., excitedly. 

Mrs. B. See how splendidly our boys are behaving! 

Kate. Oh, if we were only men for one hour, mamma — you and I! 
{dappinr/ her hands) There was a splendid rallv ! Here comes a shell ! 
Look out, mamma! {both dodr/e.) 



48 WON BACK. 

HoMEU rushes in, r. 1 E., trips up, rises cujain, etc. 

Homer {apart to Abner). Now is our time. Let's skip. 

Miw. B. What! Homer! 

Homer. 1 wisli I was liome again. Adelgitha! (tries to embrace her, 
she pushes him, he falls, and the barret rolls a short distance by the 
force of the shovt^.) 

Ahner. a Lieavy fall in pork ! {alarms. Helping him to rise) Yes, 
how's the time. Slip otf your overcoat. (HoyiKR emer'jes from barrel) 
Down with the Yanks ! [Krit, l. 1 e. 

Homer. Liljeriy or deatli ! On to Washington ! [Rnns out, l. 1 e. 

Const. The guard has left. Heaven sends you this opportunity of 
escape. Accept it and fly. 

Hugh. And leave ?/om as my hostage ! Never! 

Const. But you will be murdered. 

Hugh. I anticipated all that when I returned, (alarms.) 

Mrs. B. (looking off). Heaven ! what commotion is that? 

Const, {looking off). An important officer is wounded. 

Kate. He is only wounded. They are leading him this way. 

Hugh. 'Tis he I 'Tis General King 1 

Enter, r. 1 e., Harold, wounded, assisted by Austin. 

Const, (anxiousli/). Are you badly hurt ? 

Harolp. Yes. They got me at last! But (s?«;7/?;r/) we drove 'em, 
eh. Major? Ah \ (pfnig of pain) I have yet time for an act of mercy 
and justice. Hugh Ransome, you caused me many years of desolation 
and sorrow; but^— I — pardon — all. Will — you — do as much for me? 

Hugh. Ye.'^. {offering Jiand) Death cancels all resentments. 

Hakoi.d. Life has yet one last triumph for me -the conquest of my- 
self, (to CoN.STANCEi I release you from your oath, Constance, and I 
parole Colonel Ransome. Here is the inirole. {lyicing pa/ier.) 

Const. God of tiie living and the dying, be thine the praise ! Harold 
King, my pity and forgiveness go with you into eternity ! (reneived 
alarms.) 

Harold. What is that? 

Austin (lool.-ing off). A new attack; the other was but a feint 
' Harold. Attheni, boys! That's right! We have beaten them be- 
fore, and will do it again. See, they come ! Save the guns ! You 
jiromised me yon would never let your guns be taken Good! Steady, 
npw — steady ! — stead — (tollers as he speaks. At last his sicord, which he 
had levelled at an imaginary foe, fidls from his grasp, his arm dro}^'; 
by Iris side, and lie sinks rjenily down, snpported by Austin.) 

Hugh (inicorering). A brave enemy has gone ! (mnsic, pp.) 

Const. Gone where there are no enmities — where the heroes of the 
Blue and the Gray, reconciled by death, shall, by the mercy of God. rest 
in peace for eveviwove. (/he firing recedes. Cheers. Music, "Dixie," 
or "The Star-spangled Banner." 

SLOW CURTAIN. 



X3X3 -^ATITT'S 



Ethiopian and Comic Drama. 

« 



-Continued. 



65. 

6(i. 
115. 

14. 
105. 

45. 

B5. 

81. 

■26. 
138. 

1.5. 

59. 

21. 
160. 

80. 

84. 



Niirlit iu a Strauge Hotel, Ethiopian 

sketch 2 

Noble Savage, Eth. sketch 4 

Norah's Good Bye, Irish musical 

sketch. 2 

No Pay No Cure, Eth. sketch 5 

Obeying Orders. Eth. sketch 2 

100th Night of Hamlet, Eth. sketch 7 
Oh, Hush! operatic olio, 3 scenes. 4 
One Night iu a Bar-Koom, Eth. 

sketch 7 

One Night iu a Medical College, 

Eth. sketch 7 

One, Two, Three, Eth. sketch 7 

Painter's Apprentice, Eth. farce. . 5 
Pete and the Peddler, Eth. and 

Irish sketch 2 

Pleasant Companions, Eth. sketch. 5 

Polar Bear, Eth. farce 4 

Policy Players, Eth. sketch 7 

Pompey's Patients, Eth. interlude, 

2 scenes 6 

Porter's Troubles, sketch C 

Port Wine vs. .lealousy, sketch. .. 2 

Private Boarding, farce 3 

Recruiting Otiice. Eth. sketch 5 

Rehearsal (The), Irish farce. 2 sc. . 4 
Remittance from Home, Ethiopian 

sketch ... 6 

Rigging a Purchase, Eth. sketch.. 3 

Rival .\rtists, Eth. sketch 4 

Rival Tenants, Eth. sketch 4 

Rival Barbers" Shops. Etli. farce.. 6 

Sam's Courtship, Eth. farce 2 

Sausage Makers. Eth. sketch, 2 sc. 5 
Scampiui, pantomime, 2 scenes. . 6 
Scenes in Front of a Clothing Store, 

farce 7 

Scenes on the Mississippi, Eth. 

.sketch. 2 scenes 6 

Serenade (Tlie), Eth. sketch, 2 sc. 7 



M. F. 
5 



No. 

38. Siamese Twins, Eth. sketch, 2 sc 

74. Sleepwalker, Eth. sketch, 2 scenes 3 

46. Slippery Day, Eth. sketch 6 

69. Squire for a Day, Eth. sketch 5 

56. Stage-struck Couple, Eth. interlude 2 

72. Strangers, Eth. burlesque 1 

13. Streets of New York, sketch, 6 

16. Storming the Fort, sketch 5 

7. Stupid Seavaut, sketch 2 

121. Stocks Up! Stocks Down! Eth. 
farce 2 

154. Sulphur Bath, Eth. farce 3 

47. Take It, Don't Take It, Eth. sketch 2 
54. Them Papers, Eth. sketch 3 

100. Three Chiefs, Eth. sketch, 2 scenes 6 
102. Three A. M., sketch, 2 scenes. ... 3 
34. Three Strings to one Bow, Eth. 
sketch 4 

122. Ticket Taker, Eth. farce 2 

2. Tricks. Eth. sketch 5 

104. Two Awfuls, Eth. sketch 5 

5. Two Black Roses, Eth. sketch 4 

28. Uncle Eph's Dream. Eth. sketch, 2 _ 
scenes 3 

15G. United States Mail. Eth. farce 2 

134. Unlimited Cheek. Eth. sketch 4 

62. Vinegar Bitters. Eth. sketch 6 

32. Wake up, Williani Henry, Eth. 
sketch 3 

39. Wanted, a Nurse, sketch 4 

75. Weston, theWalkest. Dutch sketch 7 
93. What Shall I Take? Eth. farce 7 

29. Who Died First? Eth. sketch 3 

97. Who's the Actor? Eth. farce 4 

137. Whose Baby is it? Eth. sketch. . . 2 
3 1 143. Wonderful Telephone, Eth. sketch 4 
99. Wrong Woman in the Bight Place, 

1 sketch. 2 scenes 2 

85. Young Scamp. Eth. sketch 3 

116. Zacharias' Funeral. Eth. farce 6 



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ll^^^' Ethiopian and Comic Drama, containinB Plot, Costumes, Scenery, Time of 
Representation, and all other information, mailed free and post-paid on application. 
Address as on First Page of this Catalogue. 



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and a list of pieces suitable for Drawing Room Performances. Hand- 
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Price, 25 Cents. 



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AMATEl Al PARLOR THEATRICALS. 

Nos. 1, 2, 3, 4 &^ 5. 

Being choice selections from tlie very best Dramas, Comedies and 
Farces. Specially adapted for presentation by Amate-.:rs, and for 
Parlor and Drawing P^oora Entertainments. 

Each inimber, 25 Cents. 

PANTOMIME PLA Y, 

"HUMPTY DUMPTY." 



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